Ebb and Flow
by emberlivi
Summary: Sirius Black was a festering wound. A parasite lodged underneath her skin. He needed to be removed no matter how unpleasant. She was younger, stupid, and full of rage, self-loathing, and self-pity. It took Azkaban to break her.
1. Bermuda, August 1993

**Standard disclaimer: **This story is based on characters created by JK Rowling. No money is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.

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_Love it ain't something riding on a motorbike..._

—_Soho_

* * *

**Bermuda, August 1993**

"What does the old woman have to write to me today?" Althea muttered, tapping the slim, long white envelope against her chin.

Althea Morrigan sat alone upon the grey stone bench in the center of the rose garden, surrounded by blooms of red, orange, and pink. The warmth of the early morning sun and thick humidity heightened the smell of the fragrant roses as Althea inhaled deeply for courage in anticipation of her grandmother's letter. Frowning slightly, her slim fingers tore into the envelope, prepared for the banal letter that detailed the missed village fête and the scandalous goings on of her Muggle friends. Instead, an article from the _Daily Prophet_ slipped into her lap. She wrinkled her nose—why would the old woman send her an old newspaper clipping? Taking the article into her hands and unfolding it, her eyes focused upon the bold black font at least two inches high:

**SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN**

Immediately, her body lurched forward and, with a trembling hand, she attempted to steady herself upon the bench.

"Oh, bloody hell," she murmured weakly, licking her unnaturally dry lips. "How?"

Gripping the paper tightly, her eyes slowly descended from the headline to his recent prison photograph. She swallowed the sour, caustic liquid that had climbed into the back of her throat. Transfixed by his photograph, she refused to believe that it was Sirius glaring back at her. He could not have survived that long in Azkaban; surely, he must have died some years ago. Except, she would have known if he had died—at least she thought she would. Only when she looked into the sunken, hollow eyes hidden by long, matted hair did she realize it was actually Sirius. He was older, so much older than when she had seen him last, and his features grotesque, as if he had been dead for years and his body was slowly decaying—except, Azkaban had not totally broken him. Her body instinctively cringed when she detected a small air of arrogance in his photograph. It was as if he knew she was looking at him and knew that by her reaction to his photograph she was still alive. She had a wild, fleeting thought that if she turned her head at that moment, she would see him standing behind her with his arms folded, smiling smugly at her. Refusing the overwhelming urge to turn her head, she folded the article along the creases and slipped it back in the envelope. It was then she noticed another paper neatly folded inside the envelope. It was in Gran's handwriting, and the only message written on the paper was the words:

_Do not come home_.

Immediately, before she could make any decision about returning to England, an owl dropped another letter into her lap. Fearing it was another letter that described Sirius's whereabouts as Bermuda, she timidly turned over the letter to open it. She sighed with relief as it was from Hogwarts. Under the circumstances, Dumbledore would surely let her stay away from Hogwarts this year—a replacement for Muggle Studies wouldn't be that difficult to hire, would it? Hastily opening the envelope, she frowned at the message from Dumbledore:

_Come home immediately. _

However much she wanted to, she could not defy an order from Dumbledore. This was the one moment in her life she wished she had a choice.


	2. Bermuda, August 1971

**Bermuda, August 1971**

It happened again.

The rhythmic croaking of the tree frogs was dampened temporarily as Marie poured the cool water over Althea's head. Althea closed her eyes and wished the cool water would wash away the memory of that evening. She opened her eyes and inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance of rose petals and lavender sprinkled into her bath. Marie hummed softly as she lit the white candles surrounding the bathtub, and Althea inspected her as she carefully lit each candle and continued to hum. It was as if nothing had happened earlier that evening and this was an unremarkable bath—just as unremarkable as every bath she took. As she lit the last candle, she slowly turned around and met Althea's gaze.

"Don't you worry about what happened tonight," she whispered as she patted Althea on the head. "Just concentrate on your bath."

Her words always seemed to soothe Althea, but something inside fought her from relaxing. She did something very wrong; why could Marie not see? She closed her eyes and breathed in the fragrance rising from the bathwater—maybe the bathwater would wash away her fear and guilt.

After her bath, Marie tucked the now drowsy Althea into her bed, and the soft cotton sheets were a welcome comfort to her. Marie gently sat next to her, stroked a raven curl out of Althea's face, and began her nightly ritual of invoking the spirits and ancestors to protect the little girl.

"Goodnight," she said when she finished and kissed Althea on the forehead.

"Goodnight," Althea replied, yawning as she pulled the bedclothes higher.

Marie quietly rose and walked toward the door as Althea drifted off to sleep. However, something—that same something that troubled her bath—caused Althea to open her eyes wide. As Marie reached the door, Althea remembered what had bothered her earlier—she needed to know she was not an evil little girl.

"Marie?" she called out, as Marie was about to close the door.

Marie stopped, turned to face Althea, and smiled. "Go to bed, my Althea," she replied and went to shut the door.

"I know, but I have a question," she began and sat up.

Marie stopped and rested the side of her head against the doorframe.

Althea nervously took a deep breath and continued, "What—what happened earlier…to me?"

Marie smiled and spoke, "You have the gift, child."

"What gift?" she asked, as a puzzled expression crept across her face.

"You will know soon enough," she answered and closed the door.

Althea sighed disappointedly and sank back under the bedclothes. She knew that Marie would be the one person who would understand, and tell her what had happened to her, but she had not. Althea was not satisfied. She closed her eyes and forced herself to listen to the chorus of katydids and tree frogs. Unfortunately, the music that so often put her quickly to sleep did not on that night. All alone, her mind began to recount the events of the earlier evening. After a satisfying dinner, her father spoke with her in the sitting room as they did every evening. The conversation started pleasantly, with her father asking her questions about her day and he answering questions about his day. She was excited to hear he had finished his book, and when published, he would allow her to read a copy for he thought she was old enough now. However, the conversation began to take a different turn when her father told her that, within the month, they would leave their current home. Of course, this was nothing new to her. She had never spent more than two years in one place, and did not expect to stay long in Bermuda; however, her father would be traveling to Egypt, and Althea would leave her Bermuda home to live with her grandmother in England—to stay permanently.

The news upset and angered Althea, but her reaction was one she never felt before. Granted, when she had gotten angry or upset in the past, the odd light bulb had exploded, but nothing of this magnitude had happened before. The next thing she knew, she had flung a wooden chair across the sitting room, but her hands had never left her side. The chair lifted of its own accord and smashed into little pieces next to her father, who had jumped out of the way. Horrified and frightened that she almost harmed her father, she started to convulse violently and screamed as her father attempted to comfort her. She wished she could run away from the sitting room, her father, and her future. Her grandmother hated her. Why would he send Althea to her? She needed to escape. Somehow, her wish was granted and she felt herself being lifted off the sitting room floor, out of the sitting room, and into the evening sky…but, humans did not lift off the ground—humans did not fly. Althea looked down and panicked—she was at least twenty-feet in the air—she was flying. Scared, she became disoriented as she heard her father frantically calling for her in the distance. Blurred by the tears forming in her eyes, she swayed wildly, flew into a tree, and landed against the moist earth. Her father shortly reached her and found her dazed with a small bump on her head. He murmured for her not to worry as he cradled in his arms a sobbing Althea.

Althea shook her head in bewilderment as she finished her memory. Not to worry—_not to worry_? How could she not worry? What had she done? The thought crossed her mind that she could do it again. She covered her mouth in anguish as she thought about narrowly missing her father with the chair. This was a curse. A terrible curse she had no control over. What if next time she hurt someone? Althea trembled at the thought of severely injuring someone she loved. Terrible thoughts began to whirl around her mind. Her grandmother was right and she was an evil little girl. Her father should have listened to her grandmother and he should have sent Althea to a convent after her mother had died. The nuns would know how to take care of such an evil little girl. Her parents should not have waited to baptize her, and should have baptized her immediately as her grandmother had insisted. Her grandmother believed the evil and dark magic of the island of her birth had crept into Althea's soul. _That must be why I am going to Gran's_, she thought, pulling the bedclothes tighter around her. Her father, scared for his daughter's eternal life, would send her to her grandmother to cleanse and to save her soul. She shuddered as she thought of her young soul destined for eternal damnation. According to her grandmother, there was a special place in hell for people like her—a place of perpetual agonizing fire.

Nevertheless, how could something that could send her to an afterlife in a coffin of fire be a gift? Marie had shown Althea the magic that surrounded her on countless occasions. Marie demonstrated an uncanny knowledge of herbs and what her grandmother called, "superstitious heathen rituals." Maybe Marie was wrong—maybe evil lurked inside Althea that Marie could not see. Hot tears streamed down the sides of her face, and she roughly rubbed her eyes to wipe away the tears that continued to flow. Althea took in a deep, sudden breath as her bedroom door began to open. Using her blankets, she quickly wiped away the rest of her tears and pretended to be asleep.

"Althea?" whispered her father.

Althea opened her eyes to see her father, illuminated by the light from the hallway, standing in the doorway. He was an extremely tall and handsome man, with a few grey hairs intermingling with the light brown hair at his temples. Althea always thought he looked more like a matinee idol than an anthropologist. He sat next to Althea on the bed, but as he was about to speak, she flung herself against his chest and heaved great sobs. Her father wrapped his arms tightly around her and gently rocked her to calm her down.

"Shhh, Althea, Sweetheart," he whispered, still rocking her back and forth. "It'll all come right, I swear to you."

Althea whimpered.

Her father sighed and kissed the top of her head. "I reckon I should have told you earlier."

"Told me what?" she asked as she pulled away and sniffed back further tears.

Her father cleared his throat and placed his hands upon her shoulders. She had seen that expression once before—when he was about to tell her something grave—when he told her that her mother had died. Althea suspected that this news would not be pleasant either. She gazed directly into the same blue eyes as hers, and waited for an explanation that she was not an evil girl.

"Althea, I am not sure how best to explain this to you," he began, frowning slightly. "Althea, your mother and I were—well—were special."

"Special," she repeated quietly, not taking her gaze off him.

Her father nodded and continued, "Well, your mother was what you would call a witch, and I am what you would call a wizard."

Althea turned her head on its side and frowned—this was not an acceptable answer.

"What I am saying is, what you can do is magic," he explained, stroking strands of wet hair from her face. "So don't be afraid, Sweetheart."

Althea looked pleadingly at her father. "Magic, Daddy—you can't be serious!"

"I am, Sweetheart," he replied, staring into her eyes. "I never told you there wasn't such a thing—"

"But you never told me there was," she interrupted, her lower lip trembling. "Why? What did I do this evening?"

Althea's father furrowed his eyebrows. "Someday," he replied softly, resting his hand on her cheek, "someday you'll know everything."

"So I'm some sort of freak, then?" she murmured, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Daddy, this is too much!" she said with exasperation, and threw the pillow over her face.

Something about her father's explanation was shaky to her and did not comfort her, as it should have. _I think my father is making this up_, she thought as she dug her nails into the pillow. _Why won't he tell me what happened to me? Little girls aren't supposed to fly…. I am evil_.

Her father took the pillow from her face. "You are not a freak, Sweetheart. Any witch and wizard would be envious of you—maybe even a few non-magic folk," he said and gave her a wink.

Althea sized up her father. She understood what Marie did as magic—the beliefs of slaves taken from West Africa blended with the beliefs of her Roman Catholic grandmother—combined into a beautiful and powerful spirituality. However, this magic—the magic proposed by her father—was strange indeed. This was the magic she heard of in fairy tales—the magic of dragons, of witches and wizards, of fairies, and of unicorns. A witch? Witches were ugly, and Althea thought she was a very cute little girl; moreover, her mother couldn't possibly be a witch for she was very beautiful, and her father…a wizard? Wizards had pointy hats and beards—they were not handsome.

Althea thought of her mother. She loved to gaze at the photograph of her mother on her father's desk—the photograph that ever so often Althea swore would wink at her. _She was a witch, too_, she thought as she lowered her head and bit her lip.

"But—but why are you sending me to Gran's?" Althea pleaded, looking up at her father. "She thinks I'm evil! I've heard her say so!"

Althea's father put his arm around her shoulders. "Sweetheart, she just doesn't understand. She's a Muggle—what we call non-magic in the Wizarding world. It was a surprise for her that her son was a wizard," he said and smiled in an attempt to comfort her. "Then, I married your mother—a witch—instead of a Muggle girl. Well, that did not go well for my mother or her mother, too," he added and sighed.

Althea turned toward her father. "They didn't like you? Why?"

She was not sure how someone could not like her father. In her eyes, he was the most magnificent man ever to walk the earth. He was handsome, and charming, highly intelligent, and well respected by those around him.

"You remember when they took you?"

Althea nodded.

When she was six, she visited her mother's family for the day, and when she wanted to return to her father, they would not let her go back. It was a week before she saw her father, and since, she had only visited one of her mother's sisters once.

"They didn't think I should be raising a little girl all by myself, but never mind," he explained and sighed bitterly.

"Daddy, that's silly! You are the smartest person I know! You're a wonderful father!" she said excitedly, still unable to believe anyone could think less of her father.

"Am I?" he remarked with a small smile.

"Of course, you are, but, Daddy, _why_ send me to Gran's? It will be horrible."

Her father let out another sigh. "I have to, Althea. I can't take you with me to Egypt—not this time—"

"But—but I lived in Haiti, and India, and Mexico, and Morocco, and now Bermuda. England will be so…so boring…_and_ cold," she pouted and crossed her arms.

"Look, I wish I could take you, but I can't. You'll be starting a new school in the fall."

Althea gasped, unfolding her arms. "School? Oh, Daddy, not a convent!"

Her father amused, stared at her for a moment, and then let out a laugh. "That is the last place I'd send you, I promise," he replied, and pinched her nose.

Althea let out a relieved sigh and mustered a small smile.

"No, see a letter had just come for you yesterday," he explained and handed the envelope to Althea.

The envelope was made of yellowed parchment, something Althea thought odd. _What kind of school would still use parchment_,she thought as she opened the envelope. _Parchment smells awful_. Althea opened the letter and gasped. In brilliant emerald green was the title: _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. She stopped reading and looked up at her father who was smiling. He nodded for her to continue reading. She mouthed every word, and when finished folded the letter and placed into the envelope.

"Congratulations, Sweetheart," her father beamed, giving her a hug.

Althea did not respond to her father's hug. She sat motionless, still shocked from the day's events. She came from a family of witches and wizards, she was a witch, and now she will attend a Wizarding school. _I honestly don't believe this_, she thought, her hands limp at her sides. _It's an occupation? Is that why Daddy isn't a wizard? He wanted to be an anthropologist_?

Althea regained her bearings. "What if I don't want to be a witch? What if I want to be a doctor?" she wondered aloud.

"Sweetheart, you can still be a doctor, a Healer. I went through the same thoughts when I found out I was a wizard…but, Althea, being a witch isn't your profession. It's who you are, be it Muggle or magic, there is no difference," he explained in a soft tone, and tenderly rubbed her back.

Althea lowered her head and frowned.

Her father lifted her head with his hands and said reassuringly, "Hey, I attended Hogwarts, and—look—I still continued my dream of becoming an anthropologist."

"Whatever you say, Daddy. I'll try to make the best of it I suppose." She sighed dejectedly as she sank back into her bed.

"Althea Rosemary Morrigan, when have you ever listened to what I've said," he remarked with a smirk.

Althea wrinkled her nose and forehead as if in deep thought.

Her father laughed and shook his head. "Now, please go to sleep, we have a lot of packing to do," he said and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry about Hogwarts, you'll enjoy it. I promise," he whispered. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she murmured, pulling the bedclothes underneath her chin.

Her father rose from her bed, turned off the light, and closed the door. Althea turned over in her bed still unsure about Hogwarts and the conversation. _I don't like this at all_, she thought, pulling the bedclothes tighter around her chin.


	3. September 1, 1971

**September 1, 1971**

The car ride to King's Cross Station was a quiet ride. Althea's stomach churned with nervousness and her body felt cold and clammy. She did not dare look out the window as her father drove her to King's Cross Station. Instead, she stared intently at her brand new pink and white checked skirt. While staring, she noticed one of her white knee socks had slipped and quickly pulled it to the proper height. As she straightened herself out again, she noticed a small piece of string on her soft pink turtleneck sweater.

"You look beautiful, Sweetheart," her father said as he drove.

Althea pulled down the sun visor and examined her hair in the mirror. She adjusted the white patent leather Alice band perched in her black hair. Her father glanced at her and laughed quietly.

"Althea, you're going to school," he remarked, smiling. "You're not going on a date…not yet, at least."

"_Daddy_," Althea huffed, and sank back into her seat and folded her arms.

_I just want to make a good impression_,she thought, looking at her new shoes. _I don't know what other wizards and witches are like_. This would be the first time Althea would spend the majority of her time with people her own age; for her first eleven years, she spent them traveling around the world with her mother and father. Of course, she had friends; however, in the end, she always had to leave her friends. Yes, there were promises of letters and future visits, but the letters became infrequent and the visits never materialized. Now, she would spend the next seven years with the same people—the same friends—an idea quite foreign to her.

"We're here, Sweetheart," her father said, pulling into a parking spot. "You wait here while I find a trolley."

Althea waited in the car and looked around. She noticed three cars to her right a girl looking happily around—a large trunk next to her. _Maybe she is going to Hogwarts, too_, she thought as the girl and her family walked by. Panic filled Althea's head as she timidly sat in the car. Did that girl already know some magic? Would Althea be the stupidest first-year student at Hogwarts? She cringed at the thought of being teased and laughed at. She heard the boot of the car open and her father lifted her trunk onto the trolley. Althea opened her car door and walked to the back of the car. Her father had finished putting her things on the trolley and smiled down at her.

"Right, now we just have to find platform nine and three quarters," he said, resting his hands on her shoulders.

Althea attempted to muster a weak smile.

The two walked toward platform nine and Althea looked around for platform nine and three quarters, but she could not find platform nine and three quarters. She quizzically looked at the paper describing where she should catch the train to Hogwarts. _It was obviously a misprint_, she thought as she glanced at the paper again. Althea noticed that the girl that had passed the car was looking just as puzzled. Her parents and she were looking in all directions for the platform. Althea felt relieved—it was obviously a misprint.

"Daddy, I think they're lost, too," Althea said, tugging at her father's sleeve.

Her father looked over in the direction of the girl and her parents.

"Althea, we're not lost. We are right where we need to be. Platform nine and three quarters is right through there," he said, pointing to the brick wall.

Althea's eyes widened. How was platform nine and three quarters through a wall? Her father had walked over to the young girl and her family and offered them help. Althea thought the girl must have thought her father was crazy, and tried not to make eye contact with her. She had wanted to make a good impression on the other students, but her father was not helping her situation. She thought about how this would spread around the school and no one would want to be friends with the girl who had a crazy father.

"Right, Althea, I want you to run at the wall and don't stop," her father explained, resting a hand on her shoulder. Althea looked at her father and stifled a laugh. "Just watch what I do," he said.

Althea watched as her father quickly walked toward the wall. Instead of hitting against the hard brick wall, as she had expected, her father disappeared through it.

Althea's mouth opened in surprise. "I don't believe it," she breathed, as she stared at what she thought was a solid brick wall.

She closed her eyes and followed her father by running head first into the brick wall. When she opened her eyes, she let out a small laugh of amazement. Before her were her father unscathed and the Hogwarts Express with steam billowing from its smokestack. Her father held out his hand and helped her push her trolley toward the train. She looked toward her right and saw the young girl hug her mother—Althea started to feel that sadness again. She wished her mother stood on the platform, too. Suddenly, there was an explosion and Althea quickly turned her head toward the train. She gasped as purple smoke wafted out a carriage window.

"We'll find a quieter place, then?" her father said and smiled reassuringly.

She frowned at her father's nonchalant attitude toward the explosion. "Daddy, couldn't I attend that other school?"

"Hogwarts is a fine place," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "You wouldn't learn witchcraft at that other school…and I doubt you'd have as much fun."

Althea kicked at the ground with the toe of her shoe. "I'd be with Sophie. I like her," she said and wondered if Sophie was as nervous as she was at this moment.

Sophie was a Muggle girl and granddaughter to Gran's good friend. Althea was apprehensive meeting the girl at first, but in the waning weeks of summer, the girls quickly became close friends. She shared Althea's penchant for a good laugh. _No_, she thought as she watched a girl about the age of Althea with blonde hair board the train. _Sophie will have loads of friends. She's lived in abroad her entire life, too, and everyone will enjoy her stories. I did_.

She looked once again at her father's smiling face. "I don't know if I'll like anyone there."

"You will, I promise," he replied and gently urged her toward the train.

Althea closely followed her father along the train corridor. Ever so often, she would quickly glance inside a carriage to observe her fellow students. She bit her lip as she passed the crowded carriages and prayed her father would not stop at any of them. _They're so much older than me_, she thought as a brown-haired girl kissed a purple-faced boy on the cheek. _Good Lord, purple faces! I doubt that soot will wash off their faces…and they don't seem to care. Witchcraft is frightfully bizarre_.

"Ah, perfect," he said and opened the door.

Althea peered into the empty carriage. To her surprise, her surroundings looked very ordinary._ It will do_, she thought, stepping would be alone for the journey—something she did not really mind. It would be the first time she was separated from her father for such an extended period and the thought of other children laughing at her tears caused her stomach to somersault. Her father looked around the carriage and sighed happily.

"Now, mind yourself," he said as he hugged her. "I'll see you at Christmas. I promise."

"Okay, Daddy," she said, hugging her father back. "Please, write to me soon."

"I will," he said, pulling away from her. "I'll write to you as soon as I am in Egypt—maybe even before that." He bent down and kissed the top of her forehead. "I love you, Sweetheart," he said softly, and gave her another hug.

"Love you, too, Daddy," Althea said, not wanting to let go.

Her father said his goodbyes and she sat down beside the window. _This is rather comfortable_, she thought, patting the seat next to her. She wondered if her father would come back into her carriage for a third time. Looking out the window, she frowned—he was outside on the platform. He waved and smiled at her, and she struggled to look happy and waved back. Althea's father waved happily and mouthed that he loved her. Althea mouthed that she loved him as well, all the while combating a horrible sick feeling in her stomach. Suddenly, there was a jolt and the train began moving. Althea waved her last goodbyes and watched as her father turned into a tiny dot in the distance. She never felt so alone. Althea returned her gaze to the carriage and blinked rapidly to avoid tearing.

_I know if I start to cry, someone would walk in_, she thought and gently rubbed her right eye. _I should distract myself_. Althea reached into her bag and took out the brightly colored magazine Sophie gave her. _She said that all the girls will know about them and that I should know about them. She seemed surprised that I didn't know any of the boys in this magazine_. Althea turned the page to see another handsome teenage boy with smooth skin, shiny hair, and a vacant smile staring back at her. _He looks daft_, she thought, frowning slightly. Did witches enjoy reading such magazines? What did witches read? She secretly cursed her father for keeping her from the Wizarding world and, to an extent, the Muggle world. _Muggle…that is an absolutely ridiculous word_, she thought and looked out the window. Mesmerized by the passing countryside, Althea quickly lost interest in her magazine—allowing it to slip from her hands and into her lap—and imagined herself outside and not in the stuffy carriage.

Lost in her daydreams, around the middle of the afternoon, she heard the carriage door open. Jolted from her stupor, she looked in the direction of the carriage door and noticed the girl her father helped earlier enter. She was a petite girl, with long, thick, dark red hair and large emerald colored eyes. Althea wished her eyes were green; her mother's eyes were green—a beautiful olive green.

"Do you mind if I come in?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Althea nodded and the girl smiled. She sat across from Althea.

"I'm Lily, by the way," the girl said, holding out her hand.

Althea held out her hand. "Althea," she said, mustering a small smile. "How do you do?"

Lily smiled back. "I've already read that one," she said, pointing to the magazine on Althea's lap. "My sister fancies _him_," she added and pointed to the boy with the blond hair. She seemed to delight in telling Althea this fact.

Althea looked down to the magazine on her lap—she felt her cheeks warm. "Oh, right," Althea replied and stowed magazine in her bag.

"So your father is a wizard? I've never met one before," she said, wide-eyed. "Well, a grown-up one."

"Your parents aren't wizards?"

_There is someone like me_, she thought, hope rising in her chest.

"No," she replied with some pride. "I'm the _first_ of the family."

Althea felt a jolt of happiness. "My daddy too," she said, relaxing in her seat, "but my mummy came from a family of witches and wizards."

Lily looked down at her brown shoes. "So you must know a lot of magic already," she said, "like my friend, Severus. He knows loads already."

Althea's happiness faltered. "Oh, I don't know any," she said anxiously.

"Don't worry, I reckon there are more of us on here," she said and her eyes wandered around the carriage. "I just haven't met any."

"Oh," Althea murmured and looked to her skirt. "Your friend, has he been to Hogwarts?"

Lily shook her head. "No, no, he's in our year. He's with the Slytherins," she said and looked somewhat uneasy. "I don't like them very much."

"Is it a family?" she asked, leaning forward. "I've never heard of them."

Lily shook her head. "It's a House at Hogwarts," she explained, frowning. "They don't like Muggle-borns."

Althea gasped and fell back into her seat. How could people not like Muggle-borns? This perplexed her greatly when her father told her of the prejudice in the Wizarding world. _How anyone could not like my father…I don't understand it_, she thought, clenching her fists. _He is well respected in the Muggle world…and well liked. Would that mean, they don't like me_? Althea's father did not tell her if the dislike extended to those born of Muggle-borns, but she assumed it was so.

"Your friend wants to join this House?"

Lily nodded. "It's the best House…according to him," she said.

"But they don't like my father," Althea said and shifted in her seat, "or you."

"Severus said they would make an exception."

"Oh."

Althea believed Lily's friend to be lying. _He wants to join and wants her to join…a House that hates her? That's not very fair_, she thought as Lily looked out the window. _I would never want my friend to join a House that hated her. Right, I'd never want to join in the first place_! Althea made up her mind not to like him. _That's not friendship_.

* * *

All of Althea's fears subsided during her ride to Hogwarts. The two girls talked about their apprehensions for this first year—the classes, the professors, the strange things they read in their textbooks, how surprised they were to find out magic exists, and even more surprised they were witches. Althea explained that her father had kept magic hidden from her—his reason for she still did not know why. She was envious that Lily was somewhat prepared through her friendship with that boy. At one point, Lily left to find him and to introduce him to Althea, but he was enjoying himself with the Slytherins. Strangely, Althea felt relieved.

All of a sudden, the carriage door opened and two boys stood in the doorway. Lily looked displeased.

"Well, this is the only one left, and I'm _not_ sitting with Narcissa," the one boy said. He was tall with black hair that fell lazily into his grey eyes.

"Anything's better than the _last_ one," the other boy said, wrinkling his nose. He wore glasses, was shorter than the other boy was, and had black hair that stuck up in the back—Althea wanted to give him her comb.

"Well, you were thick enough to set off the Dungbomb," the taller boy said. "I was saving it for tonight."

The boy with glasses looked at the two girls and frowned. "Mate, girls," he whispered.

The taller boy eyed the two girls with an air of boredom. Althea raised and eyebrow at him. He did the same as he looked upon Althea. _Who does he think he is_, she wondered and glanced to Lily. Lily's cheeks were pink. _So impolite_!

"I _don't_ want to sit with my cousin. She won't let us have any fun," he said, eyeing the carriage. "It'll do."

Lily moved next to Althea and the other boys slumped down across from them. Feeling slightly awkward, Althea sat up a little straighter and fixed her skirt. The carriage was silent as they tried to find ways to occupy themselves. Lily fiddled with her necklace and Althea looked out the window at the passing English countryside.

"Do you have anything? I'm hungry—when is the trolley coming round," the taller boy complained.

"No, we finished the lot ages ago," the boy with the glasses said.

Althea cleared her throat. "I have some sweets. My daddy gave me so much—you could have some if you like," she said, taking out the paper bag filled with treats.

The taller boy looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "What do you have?"

Althea looked in the bag. "There are toffees, licorice, and some chocolate bars," she said, looking up.

Althea held out the bag for the boy to see. The taller boy had wrinkled his nose at the sweets.

"I've never heard of those," he said, looking in her bag. "Where are the Chocolate Frogs?"

"The Chocolate _what_?" Althea asked and peered into the bag as well. She wrinkled her nose as the boy smelled a strange combination of peppermint, a chimney, and—she thought—whatever a Dungbomb smelled like.

"Where did you get those?"

"At the shop near the station," she said, puzzled. She thought everyone knew of those brands of sweets. What strange people are wizards!

The taller boy's mouth opened. "Those are Muggle sweets," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Could I?"

Althea nodded and handed him a chocolate bar. "You've never had them?" she asked, taking a bite of licorice.

The boy stuffed his mouth full of chocolate and shook his head. "Not Muggle sweets."

Althea's eyes widened. "There are Wizarding sweets?" she asked, sitting forward.

The taller boy nodded. Althea sat back and wondered how Wizarding sweets differed from Muggle sweets. What sort of magic could a chocolate bar have?

He shoved the bag into the chest of the boy next to him. "Try some," he managed to say.

The other boy took a few pieces and shoved them into his mouth. "Do you have more?" he asked, his hazel eyes sparkling. Althea looked in the bag again and handed him a chocolate bar. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "I'm James Potter, by the way."

He nudged the taller boy next to him. "Sirius Black," he muttered and took another mouthful chocolate.

"Althea Morrigan," she said, handing some licorice to Lily. "How do you do?"

Lily did not introduce herself. Instead, she shoved licorice into her mouth.

The two boys laughed. "Formal, isn't she?" James remarked and took another bite of chocolate.

Althea frowned. How did wizards and witches introduce themselves?

"Your parents are Muggles, then?" Sirius asked, finishing the last of his chocolate bar. He crumpled the wrapper in his hand and threw it across the carriage.

"No, my daddy's a wizard," Althea said, shifting in her seat. "I was just raised with Muggle things."

Sirius eyed her warily before he took a piece of James' chocolate bar.

"Aren't a lot of people raised like that?" Althea asked, taking another bite of licorice.

The two boys shook their heads.

Unexpectedly, the carriage door opened again. This time an older girl with long, blonde hair stood in the doorway—her arms crossed and with an arrogant expression on her face. Althea painfully gulped as she swallowed a bite of licorice.

"You're the ones that set off the Dungbomb, aren't you?" the girl asked. "Such the thing my _baby_ cousin would do."

Sirius muttered something and James laughed.

The girl sighed with impatience. "Sirius, you _know_ you are supposed to sit with us. Your mother would not like it—these could be Mudbloods for all you know," she said, looking to Lily.

Althea quickly rose to her feet. "How dare you say that!" She pointed her finger at the older girl. "Apologize."

The girl looked shocked that someone would object to such name-calling. "No," she calmly said, and turned on her heel. "I _will_ be owling Auntie, Sirius."

She walked out of the carriage and slammed the door behind her. Althea stared at the closed carriage door. She was so casual, so flippant about that word: Mudblood. How could she be? Is it not one of the most awful insults one could say in the Wizarding world?

Althea sat down as the others stared at her. "Do you know that girl?"

Sirius looked a little nervous and embarrassed. "Unfortunately," he said, slouching into the seat. "My cousin—she's hoping I'm in Slytherin tonight."

Althea made a face. "Is it the _only_ House at Hogwarts?" she asked—her stomach growing queasy once more.

"No," Sirius snorted, grabbing the bag of sweets. He reached in the bag, took out a piece of licorice and a candy bar, and tossed the bag back at Althea.

Althea frowned as she caught the bag.

"You don't know about the different Houses?" James asked, astonished.

Althea shook her head.

"Well, there's four—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff—"

Althea giggled.

James raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Hufflepuff," she said through her giggling. "What a ridiculous name!"

"Better than Slytherin," Sirius remarked, breaking up a chocolate bar. He lifted a piece of chocolate to his mouth, frowned, and placed it in the wrapper.

"Tonight we find out what House we belong to at the Sorting Ceremony," James said eagerly.

"Oh," Althea whispered. "What is the best House?"

"Gryffindor," James answered. "The rest are all right—"

"Except for Slytherin," Sirius quickly interjected.

"And _what_ is wrong with Slytherin?" Lily asked, her hands on her hips.

Althea was mildly confused. Why defend a House that did not want her because her parents were Muggles? _Her friend wants to be sorted into that House_, she thought, as the boys looked annoyed. She admired Lily's loyalty, but a new feeling of jealousy licked at her insides. To Althea, the loyalty was misplaced.

"They're a bunch of ugly, _greasy_ gits," Sirius explained and smiled smugly.

Althea looked at Lily, who had narrowed her eyes at the two boys. Althea did not know if she should laugh along with James and Sirius, or ignore them. Instead, she shot a weak smile at the two boys.

The four resumed an easy quiet, but Althea's mind did not quiet. How were houses determined? Was it an exam first-year students had to take? Althea sank down into her seat—nervousness intensifying in her stomach—she never sat for an exam before. What would happen if she performed poorly? Would she have to stay in that House of the next seven years? What kind of test would it be? Would she have to demonstrate her magical abilities? Althea closed her eyes to try to calm her stomach. Why had her father not told her of these things? She decided to berate her father for not telling her about House placement in her first letter to him.

* * *

It was late when the train arrived at the station. The two boys had left the carriage shortly after the incident with Sirius' cousin (they found the presence of the two girls frightfully boring), and Althea was grateful—she had more time to spend with Lily. The two girls chatted eagerly and nervously about what to expect at Hogwarts, and Althea divulged she had never attended a school before. Lily was very keen to soothe Althea's fears about school by revealing stories of her experiences in Muggle school. Althea hoped that Hogwarts was just as exciting as Lily's former school—she decided that she would immediately audition for the school play.

The crescent moon hung high in the sky as Althea entered Hogwarts. Althea shivered underneath her robe and uniform; it was a lot colder there than in Bermuda. Briefly, she closed her eyes and thought about what she would be doing on a Bermuda night. She would be sitting on her porch listening to the waves as they ebbed and flowed over the pink sand. The whistling of the tree frogs would have become deafening at this time of night, and the moths would be encircling the porch light casting shadows on Althea's homework. _I probably would not be wearing this wool monstrosity_, she thought to herself as she entered the Great Hall. Lily nudging her arm into Althea's side jolted her out of her homesickness.

"What?" Althea whispered.

Lily pointed to the ceiling of the Great Hall. It was nothing Althea had ever seen before. She opened her mouth and giggled with delight as the bewitched Great Hall ceiling mesmerized her. _At least something reminds me of home_, Althea thought, looking at the twinkling stars. She removed her gaze from the stars and observed the surroundings of the Great Hall. Hundreds of students' faces stared at the first-years—some with eager anticipation and others with indifference. At the sight of the mass of students, Althea's face turned pale and her stomach churned with nervousness. Would they test her in front of all these students? Her knees weakened as the gathering of first-years stopped in front of a small stool with a disheveled pointed hat sitting atop it. Unexpectedly, the hat began to talk. Althea and Lily turned toward one another—mouths open.

"I didn't know hats could talk," Lily whispered in Althea's ear.

"I didn't know either," responded Althea, who was transfixed by the talking hat.

The boy behind her sighed with annoyance. Althea turned and glared at Lily's friend. He sneered at her. _He thinks I'm stupid. I know your secret…your father's a Muggle, phony_, she thought, her eyes flickering over his shoulder. Sirius made a rude face directed toward Lily's friend. Althea giggled. He quickly turned to see Sirius eye him with a look of boredom.

"What?" Sirius asked to the boy and continued his conversation with James.

After the hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment. The muscles in Althea's arm tensed and her blood vessels constricted. She looked around at the other first-years and noticed they were just as pale-faced and nervous.

"When I call your name please step forward," McGonagall said. "Aaron, Lesley."

Lesley effortlessly walked to the stool and sat down. McGonagall placed the pointed hat atop her head, and instantly the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Lesley walked toward the Slytherin tables to shouts and cheers. A wave of calmness enveloped Althea—all she had to do was wear a hat. This was easy—no exam! However, what happened if the hat was wrong? She quietly, but fervently prayed the hat would not place her in Slytherin.

"Black, Sirius," she read.

Sirius begrudgingly sat on the stool and waited for McGonagall to place the hat on his head. After a few moments, the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" Sirius relieved, proudly walked over to the Gryffindor table, and was greeted happily by the students.

A rotund man with a large silver mustache sputtered and coughed at the Head Table.

"Evans, Lily," she continued, reading aloud the scroll.

Lily turned toward Althea looking for reassurance. Althea nodded and Lily sat on the stool. Within seconds the hat announced, "GRYFFINDOR!" Cheers erupted at the Gryffindor table and Lily eagerly looked at Althea.

Althea listened intently as the other students were sorted into their Houses. It would be her time soon. _I hope this bloody hat knows what it's doing_, she thought, her breath shallow as another brown-haired girl was sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Morrigan, Althea Rosemary," McGonagall read.

Althea became rigid at the sound of her name. It was her time now. She carefully sat on the stool and waited for the hat to be placed on her head. _What is taking so long? Get on with it_, she thought, screwing her eyes up at the disheveled hat. _Please, do not put me in Slytherin. I don't want to be with that awful girl_.

"Aren't you the impatient one," the hat responded, "but I'd never think of placing you there."

_Good_, she thought, anxiously twisting her hands together. _Lily was so easy to place, and I reckon my father was as well_.

"Very loyal," the hat murmured.

Panicked, Althea looked in the direction of Lily, who was urging her on—as if she could change the outcome of the sorting. She looked in the direction of the other Gryffindors—some were busy chatting and laughing, and others, like Lily, watched the sorting. She looked to the other first-years at the table—the very pale, brown-haired boy fought a smile as the blonde-haired girl that sat next to Lily giggled as Sirius had charmed one of her plaits to levitate. Althea giggled as well and directed her gaze to Lily. _I'd like to be with her…with Lily. Place me with her, please_.

"GRYFFINDOR!" that hat shouted.

Relief overcame Althea as she hopped off the stool and joined the Gryffindor table.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," an older girl with wheat-colored hair said.

"Thanks," Althea replied and sat next to Lily.

"I'm so happy you're in Gryffindor, too," Lily said, patting Althea on the back.

"Me too," Althea said, relieved. "I thought the hat was never going to place me."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she breathed, leaning closer. "As soon as she placed it on your head it shouted your House."

Althea frowned thoughtfully as she scanned the rest of the table. "Strange," she murmured as she watched Sirius congratulate James.


	4. Hogwarts, September 1, 1993

**Hogwarts, September 1, 1993**

_Black and cloudy_, Althea thought disappointedly, as she gazed up at the Great Hall sky. _You'd think they'd charm it to a more impressive sky, especially on an evening such as this_. Soon students would file into the Great Hall and the celebration of the new school year would begin. New students sorted into their Houses—all eager, excited, and scared at the possibilities before them. Althea sighed and remembered her sorting—how anxious and unprepared she was for it. _I was convinced it was an exam_, she thought, smiling weakly as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. _What relief I felt when I saw that I only had to wear a hat…. I'm still surprised I didn't faint…. Oh, the poor girl, she had just as little preparation as me_.

This was the year. The year her dream to see a particular first-year student would be fulfilled. A student she had been waiting almost twelve years to see. _I wonder which House Prudence will be sorted to_, she thought, looking at the empty House tables before her. _I must remember not to show extra emotion—don't you dare begin to cry! No matter how much I want to run and hold her, only a polite clap will do_. Althea patted the robe pocket with the empty vial. _This mild Sedative Potion should help, I hope_.

The chair next to Althea produced a loud creaking noise as it scuffed across the floor; the noise broke her from her thoughts and she jumped slightly. She turned her head toward the moved chair and smiled warmly. Standing to her left was Remus Lupin—tall, somewhat handsome but his expression tired, and with grey interspersed in his light brown hair. The robes Althea had insisted on buying him on his last visit were tattered and worn, probably from his travels for he never took care of his clothes. _Look at that horribly mended sleeve_, she thought as she stood to hug him. _I told him not wear these robes during a field study, but does he listen? Of course, he doesn't listen_. It had been almost two years since their last meeting, and much too long for her. He never spent long enough at one place for her to visit.

Althea felt Remus laugh. "Althea, Althea, you can let go of me now," he whispered, rubbing her back.

"No," she murmured, holding him tighter. "It's been so long since I last saw you, almost two years."

"It has been too long," he replied, loosening her arms. "Oh, don't frown. Think of all the years we will have together here," he continued and pinched her nose. "You'll tire of me."

"I could never tire of you," she replied as the other professors filed into the Great Hall—the students would soon arrive. "You know, we had a nice 'Welcome, Professor Lupin' party without you. Professor Sinistra almost drank an entire bottle of wine—oh, look! She collided with her chair!" she continued and covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Not as funny as the time James snuck Firewhiskey into Flitwick's tea," Remus commented casually, looking toward Sinistra. He laughed quietly and shook his head. "Here," he continued, offering Althea her chair.

"Thank you," she replied, sitting. "Why did you take the Hogwarts Express?"

"Oh," he began slowly as he sat, "I had some business to attend to in London."

"London," she murmured to herself and suddenly her eyes grew wide. "Did you see her?" she asked excitedly, resting her hand on his forearm. "Did you see her on the train?"

Remus shook his head. "No, not her," he answered, furrowing his eyebrows. "I saw Harry," he continued, leaning back in his chair. "God, he looks like James."

_I remember the first time I saw him_, she thought, stroking Remus's forearm. _I almost fell out of my chair._ _I've had two years to grow accustomed to his face; now, Remus must do so as well_.

"It was unnerving the first time I saw him," she replied as Remus placed his hand over hers. "The faculty and staff all took a collective breath when he entered."

"Thankfully, I was asleep for most of the journey," he replied and laughed hollowly.

Althea perceived his exhaustion—a full moon had just passed. "Are you taking care of yourself? How was the last…you know?" she insinuated, inspecting him further—he was very thin.

"Oh you know…the same," he answered and sighed, gently patting her hand. "However, now I have a Potions Master, so things should be looking up," he explained, attempting to sound cheerful. "I'll have the potion every month instead of every two or three."

Althea looked in the direction of Snape, who was looking at the two of them with the utmost loathing. She rolled her eyes out of disgust and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. When Dumbledore hired Althea as the Muggle Studies professor six years ago, Snape was the only member of the faculty vocally to oppose his decision. He never wasted a moment to tell Althea so, and the dislike was mutual. Althea did her best to avoid him unless it was necessary—she never had much use for the dungeons. After Remus was fired from his last teaching job, Althea brought his teaching skills to the attention of Dumbledore—who was in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Dumbledore happily agreed—as did most of the faculty—to hire Remus for the position. The only vote not to hire was Snape.

"Althea, I know he was the only vote no," Remus said with a faint smile. "He told me himself before I came into the Great Hall. He seemed to enjoy telling me, too."

"I'm not surprised. He did enjoy telling me how awful you were during the faculty meeting, and when I disagreed—"

"Tell me, you didn't hex him," Remus interrupted, massaging his left temple.

"I didn't, but I should have," she replied, folding her arms. "Oh, the things he said! I'm _just_ the Muggle Studies professor so I shouldn't have a say—how awful!"

"He's never thought highly of Muggles—"

"I guarantee no Muggle would ever think highly of him," she interrupted, kicking her heel against the floor. "Honestly, I wouldn't trust him with brewing the potion," she remarked, continuing to kick her heel against the floor. "I wouldn't trust him with anything."

"Become a Potions Mistress and then you could brew the potion," he replied and laughed as Althea frowned—her heel slamming against the floor. "Anyway, how has he been treating you?" he asked, moving closer.

"Oh, like always—barely civil," she explained, moving closer. "He's increased the asides and insinuations since Sirius escaped," she explained, unfolding her arms, "but I've come to ignore it…mostly."

Remus's complexion became paler as he nervously cleared his throat. "You—you haven't heard anything from him?" he asked, solemnly looking into her eyes.

"Oh God no! He thinks I'm dead, and I'd like it to stay that way," she said emphatically, herself growing lightheaded at the thought he'd know she was alive. "Have you?" she asked, resting her hand on his forearm.

"No, thankfully," he answered, placing his hand atop hers. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help to him; however, Snape seems to think otherwise. He has already begun with the caustic remarks. He said that what a coincidence it was that Sirius escaped and now I am at Hogwarts," he explained with perceptible bitterness.

_How dare he think Remus had anything to do with Sirius's escape_, she thought and clenched her teeth. _Remus despises him just as much as I do! No, Sirius escaped without help. He has no one to help him, no one who cares about him now_.

"Did he say he would be watching you?" she asked, taking her goblet into her hands. She took a sip and frowned. "Wine? I took that bloody sedative," she remarked, shaking her head.

"Sedative? Althea—"

"I didn't want to look mental for Prudence's Sorting Ceremony," she said, wrinkling her nose at her goblet. "It was a small vial…non-addictive and nothing to worry about."

Remus gave her a wary look.

"Oi!" she demanded, slamming her hand against the table. "Pumpkin juice!" Althea's goblet disappeared and a new goblet—filled with pumpkin juice—appeared. "Thank you!" she added and took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Obviously, confused my chair with Sinistra's," she muttered, placing her goblet on the table. "She does love to celebrate."

"I'll remember that, but I see he's already given you the speech," Remus replied calmly, and took a sip from his goblet.

Their conversation was interrupted by the laughter and banter of the students as they entered the Great Hall. Moments later, the first-years entered and proceeded toward the front of the Great Hall. Althea searched the crowd of first-years for her welcomed student. Then she saw her—toward the middle of the crowd—next to a girl with straight blonde hair. Althea's heart beat wildly and her blood vessels constricted—causing her arms to ache. She bit her lip and attempted to hold back tears as she inspected her. She was tall for her age, slender, with long black curls—just like her mother. _She is absolutely beautiful_, she thought, refusing to remove her eyes from Prudence. Prudence whispered something to the girl with blonde hair, causing the blonde-haired girl to giggle. She looked so calm, so confident, so unlike Althea at her Sorting Ceremony.

The Sorting Hat sang its song for the new year and she waited as Professor Flitwick called out each first-year student's name. After each student was called, Althea's anxiousness intensified—she would be called soon. _Damn it, get on with it_, she thought, as her body tensed as Professor Flitwick read the name before hers—Prudence would be next. Finally, Althea would be close to her—closer to her than she had been those past twelve years.

"Parker, Prudence Rosemary," Professor Flitwick read aloud.

Althea sat up straight in her chair, the color quickly draining from her face as Prudence confidently walked toward the stool. _They kept her name. How wonderful that they kept her name_, she thought, as Prudence cheerfully hopped upon the stool. She held the sides of the chair, suppressing the overwhelming urge to stand and hug Prudence—to divulge the circumstances of her birth and her regret. She had to remain calm—Prudence did not know and it would destroy her.

Althea took a deep breath to maintain her composure. "It's…" she began, but could not bring herself to finish her sentence.

Remus's eyes enlarged. "I understand," he said, looking at Prudence with the same amount of wonder. "God," he breathed with a faint smile.

Suddenly, the Sorting Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Althea clasped Remus's hand, holding it tightly in hers. Prudence leapt from the stool, smiling—her white teeth gleaming—and her grey eyes sparkling, just like her father.


	5. Hogwarts, Late September 1971

**Hogwarts, Late September 1971**

_Ah, precious, sweet sleep_, Althea thought, as she drowsily rested her chin against her hand. Professor Binns's monotonous voice droned on inside Althea's ears, and created the soothing sound of honeybees buzzing about in multiple beehives. _Mmm…honey_, she lazily dreamed—slightly licking her lips. The food at Hogwarts, though good, was not sufficient to satisfy Althea—the food was foreign to her and upset her stomach. She longed to taste the fresh, succulent fruits she was accustomed to every morning in Bermuda. She wanted seafood, not meat pies, or sausages, or eggs. For four days in a row, her breakfasts have consisted of toast and pumpkin juice.

Suddenly, Althea felt a nudge in her side—almost causing her head to fall on the desk—it was Lily. "What? Is class over?" she whispered sleepily.

"No, Professor Binns is handing back our papers," she said quietly, waiting for her name.

With great effort, Althea tried to stay awake. "Diana McGonagall," Professor Binns announced, looking at Althea.

Althea, embarrassed, sunk in her seat before standing. _Why can't he call me Althea, and not my mother_, she thought taking the paper off the desk. _I've told him almost thirty times. I don't want people to know…it's embarrassing_.

"Good work, Miss McGonagall," he said in his tedious voice.

"Thank you, sir, but it's _Morrigan_," Althea replied, wishing that this one time he would get her name right. "_Althea Morrigan_."

"You're welcome, Miss McGonagall," he replied.

Althea turned around and rolled her eyes. She hated to be reminded every day that she was related to Gryffindor Headmistress—a woman she had only previously met five times in her life. Sirius Black teased her mercilessly for it. He would taunt her, hex her, and even try to trip her just so he could remind her McGonagall was her aunt. "Going to run to Auntie are you?" he would tease after hexing her. Althea at first tried her hardest to ignore him, but now it was very difficult. She heard him behind her—he was snickering. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. _Just concentrate on the lecture_, she thought, staring ahead of her. But it was so difficult to concentrate!

"Don't pay attention to him," Lily whispered.

"How can I not?" Althea responded through gritted teeth. "He teases me every class."

The end of class was a welcome comfort for all students leaving History of Magic. Althea and Lily gathered their belongings and hurriedly left the mind-numbing class. The two girls walked quickly toward the Great Hall for lunch. As they were about to enter, Althea felt something push her from behind—causing her to fall face first onto the cold stone floor. She hit the floor and groaned—her bag landing on top of her.

"Are you all right?" Lily asked, helping Althea stand.

"Yeah," she replied, as she stood and looked around to make sure nothing out of her bag spilled.

From behind, Althea heard distinct bark-like laughter—the back of her neck prickled from anger. She slowly turned to see Sirius leaning against the wall, lazily twirling his wand between his fingers—the rest of his friends behind him. Althea clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. He looked so pleased with himself. _I'm not going to ignore this anymore_, she thought, secretly reaching for her wand.

"Let's go," Lily said, taking Althea's arm.

Althea shook her head and Lily frowned.

"What have I ever done to you?" she said, stepping forward. "Leave me alone!"

"Oh, going to your Auntie, then?" he smirked and mockingly pouted. "Going to cry again?"

Althea inhaled deeply and narrowed her eyes as Sirius continued to laugh.

"_Paronychia_!" Althea shouted, pointing her wand at Sirius.

For a moment, Sirius was taken aback as the bolt of yellow light him in directly in the stomach.

"What did you do?" he shouted, looking down at his hands. His fingers turned blistered and red. "This itches!" he shouted and frantically scratched his fingers.

Althea felt mild satisfaction as she watched Sirius frantically scratching the ends of his fingers. _It serves him right_, she thought folding her arms.

"Let's go, Lily, I'm hungry," she said, turning away from the fuming Sirius and his friends.

"You shouldn't have done that! You're going to get in massive trouble!" Lily admonished.

Althea shrugged. "Maybe he'll leave me alone—"

"Oi, Morrigan!" Sirius shouted angrily.

Althea rolled her eyes and turned around. "_What_?"

"_Alopecia_!" he roared.

The jet of purple light erupted across Althea's chest and she gasped from the force. Sirius let out a great bark-like laugh as Althea's hair gently cascaded down her back. She looked down at her feet and saw her black, curly hair in piles on the stone floor. Slowly, she lifted her hands to her head and felt the smooth skin of her newly bald scalp.

"Oh God!" she whispered.

"Does anyone have a mirror?" Sirius joked, doubled over in laughter.

Her hair—her beautiful hair of which she took great pride and received envious compliments. It was the same as her mother's, and now her hair—her mother's hair—was in piles upon the stone floor. She shook with rage as Sirius continued to laugh and tease her. Lily grasped her arm and attempted to pull her from the scene.

"No!" she growled, breaking herself free from her friend.

Suddenly, in an action her grandmother would very much disapprove, Althea—screaming—charged full sped into the laughing Sirius. The laugh had not died from Sirius's face when Althea rushed into him at full force, knocking the both of them to the stone floor.

The laugh had transformed into a look of shock. "What d'you think you're doing!" he yelled as Althea struggled to hold him down. "Get off me!"

Althea pulled back her right fist and hit him directly in the left eye. Sirius pinched her side, and the two wrestled, attempting to hit and to pinch each other. A crowd developed around the sparring duo, until one of the prefects that encountered the fight summoned McGonagall.

"Morrigan! Black!"

The two continued to wrestle and Sirius yelped as Althea bit his forearm.

"Stop this at once!" she shouted and Althea felt herself being pulled apart from Sirius.

McGonagall had her wand pointed at the pair. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Now you've done it," he muttered angrily.

"Me! Look what you did! I have no hair!" she shouted, vigorously pointing to her bald scalp.

"Morrigan, that is enough!" McGonagall shouted. "The both of you—my office. The rest of you, please disperse."

Althea, still sore from the pinches and punches, walked with Sirius toward McGonagall's office. As they stood before McGonagall, her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened as she sized up both students: Althea was bald and her robes askew, but Sirius was worse—his fingers red and raw, blood from his nose splattered upon his robes, and his left eye swollen shut. Althea cringed when glanced at him—did she really do that?

"Miss Morrigan, I am ashamed of you. I don't know what caused you to do this heathen-like behavior, but this is unacceptable," Professor McGonagall said, restraining her anger. "I will be notifying your father _and_ your grandmother immediately. You have detention this entire week."

"But—"

"Silence, or I will make it two weeks."

Sirius smirked.

"I am not done yet, Mr. Black."

"Again, what unacceptable behavior and an embarrassment for Gryffindor. Ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor."

Sirius growled.

"And, I will also notify your parents immediately, Mr. Black. You will also have detention this entire week."

"But, she started it!" Sirius quickly blurted out. "Look—look at my hands!" he added pleadingly and held up his hands.

"ME!" Althea roared and pinched Sirius's arm. Sirius pinched her arm back.

"Stop this immediately!"

Althea and Sirius stopped, and both took in a great gulp of air. "Sorry professor," they said in unison.

"I have _never_ seen two students act in such a _barbaric_ manner—and in the same House!" she said and nodded resolutely. "Maybe you two should learn some House cooperation for the both of you will be spending your week in detention together—"

Althea wrinkled her nose and Sirius groaned quietly.

"Maybe you will learn a bit of civility," she said, looking at the pair over her spectacles. "Now, please go to the hospital wing…the both of you."

Althea and Sirius silently walked together to the hospital wing. She waited for him to hex her or to trip her, but it never came. A shocked Madam Pomfrey applied a salve to regenerate Althea's hair, and she applied a soothing balm and wrapped Sirius' hands. Althea and Sirius sat next to each other in hospital beds, quietly ignoring one another. Sirius—with his arms folded—looked ahead of him, and Althea looked to her toes covered by the blanket. As the two sat in the hospital wing, time and conscience seeped into Althea. She had been dreadfully barbaric—what would her father say? She should not have hexed Sirius or continued with that savage display—she had caused Gryffindor to lose precious House points. Now, she would have to spend an entire week's detention with him—with that foul boy! She should have walked away—oh, but it was so difficult! Why did he tease her so? He was pleasant to her on the train, but the day after the Sorting Ceremony, he had changed—obviously brought on by the Howler his parents had sent. Unlike him, she received a congratulatory note from her father and a package of sweets. Seeing Sirius's glum nature, she felt sorry for him and offered him some of the congratulatory sweets her father had sent. He pushed the sweets away and called her an awful name. _'Don't pity me, Muckblood,' he said_, she thought, touching the newly grown hair. It was short and would take years to grow—at least she thought so, but she knew she was thinking like a Muggle. How was she to know _who_ he was? She had no idea surnames were so important in the Wizarding World. _Morrigan isn't good enough_, she thought, feeling that her hair was longer already. _I think Morrigan is a brilliant name—Muggles respect it. Black is such a…plain name—boring, really_.

"Er—I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring ahead of him.

Althea gasped, making a quiet, squeaking noise. He would apologize to her? She blinked.

"Oh—er—I'm sorry too," she mumbled, staring ahead of her.

Sirius cleared his throat. "That really took guts Morrigan. I didn't think you could do it."

"Well, I did it," Althea replied, still staring ahead of her.

"Yeah," he sighed, and Althea heard him shift on his bed. "Good job."

"What?" she asked puzzled, turning toward him.

"Good job," he repeated and nodded to himself. "_Paronychia_…I'll have to remember that."

_What an idiot_, she thought, frowning.


	6. Hogwarts, Late September 1993

**Hogwarts, Late September 1993**

"Where is Kelly Derry?" read the headline of the editorial section of the _Daily Prophet_.

"At Hogwarts," she muttered, turning the page.

However, Althea could not dismiss that editorial column, and she found herself reading the column:

_Some ten years ago, the _Daily Prophet_ began reporting the strange disappearances throughout England of known and reformed Death Eaters. Only two years later, was the murderous vigilante, Kelly Derry, apprehended on the streets of London. After her sensational trial, where she exhibited no remorse for her hideous crimes of murder and mutilation, she was sentenced to life in Azkaban. However, she only served one year of her life sentence because of her apparent suicide. Who could forget her haunting words etched on her prison cell wall as she dangled from the ceiling…?_

"Haunting, indeed," Althea scoffed as she continued to read the article. "More like deranged."

_Nevertheless, I beg to ask the question, where is Kelly Derry? At this moment, a vicious murderer is walking the streets, threatening the lives of all witches, wizards, and Muggles. Is the Ministry capable of capturing such a dangerous fugitive? I dare say not. The Wizarding world needs a ruthless vigilante like Kelly Derry to capture a ruthless killer like Sirius Black. It is a shame that such a person no longer exists. We need you Kelly Derry..._

"Oh dear God!" Althea said, exasperated, and threw the _Daily Prophet_ across her office.

The newspaper landed with the editorial facing Althea; the smirking face of Kelly Derry looking back up at her. Althea grimaced as she studied the photograph—a horrible caricature of her former self, a self she desperately wished to forget. The young woman—with chin-length, disheveled, fire-red hair—sneered back at her, and Althea stared deeply into the hardened eyes of the murderous Derry. Had she really changed all that much? She took a small mirror out from her desk drawer and stared into her own eyes. Her blue eyes were older and sadder. The eyes that looked back from the paper were bloodshot—too much alcohol and refined poppy juice the night before—and heartless. She placed the mirror on her desk and continued to stare at the smirking Derry. How had she come to that point? What made her different? Why did she appoint herself judge and deliverer of retribution?

In the quiet of night, when all of Hogwarts was safely asleep, the thoughts of her past flooded her mind. She envisioned the last gasps of breath as she slit the throats and stabbed the chests of the former Death Eaters she executed, but to her they would always be Death Eaters. She saw the ghosts of the children she would never have. Althea slowly guided her hand to her lower abdomen—the scars of her past prevented her from conceiving. Althea often thought what her life would have been like if she lived in some alternate reality. She smiled a bittersweet smile as she thought she might be like a Mrs. Weasley—caring for seven children and taking care of a household. Granted, she could never really envision herself with seven children, but one or two would've made her happy. Althea lowered her head. She had to do it—it was the only choice for her at the time in her deranged mind. If only those in the Wizengamot had witnessed what she had witnessed or felt what she had felt. She knew they might have chosen the same path as well.

A gentle knock at her office door startled Althea. "Come in," she said and quickly stowed the mirror in the desk drawer.

Remus Lupin stuck his head through the doorway. "Are you busy? I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, opening the door.

"Oh no, no," Althea replied, leaning back in her chair. "Just reliving my past," she added, pointing to the newspaper on the floor.

Lupin turned around after he closed the door and looked down at the newspaper behind him. "Ah yes, I read that earlier this morning. Fortunately, Kelly Derry is dead," he said, sitting in a large chair across the desk from her.

"Thank God," she said, rubbing her forehead. "That is a past I never want to relive."

"All of us have regrets," Remus said thoughtfully. "I know I have mine."

Althea shook her head. "Please, let's not relive this," she said quietly. "What brings you back to Hogwarts? I thought you enjoyed the teaching job in France. I thought this was permanent."

Remus sighed and sank down in the chair. "It was…until the full moon," he said, frowning. "School benefactors don't like werewolves teaching their students."

"I still don't understand it," she murmured and sighed, staring at Remus. "You are an excellent teacher—you were meant to teach."

"Thanks, but not everyone had a father who wrote a book on werewolves," he said and winked.

"_Two_ books, and maybe I should send them a few copies," she responded with a wink. "Would you like coffee or tea?" she asked, standing and walking over to a side table.

"Yes, tea please. Thank you."

"Earl Grey or this…" she said and paused for a moment as she attempted to figure out how to say the name. "Dar_jeel_ing," she continued, frowning at the tin. "I can never pronounce that."

"As long as it is not chamomile, I'll be happy." He sat forward and added, "And don't give me that 'World's Greatest Teacher' mug either."

Althea tapped the kettle with her wand and turned to face him. "What if I think you're the 'World's Greatest Teacher?'" she remarked, leaning against the table. "You're the only one that uses it—it's your special mug."

"I'm surprised you don't use it around Snape," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"I would, but I will save that honor for you," she replied, smiling mischievously. "Have him use it for your Wolfsbane Potion."

"And have him put sugar in the Wolfsbane? I think not," he replied, pulling a face. "I like my transformations as mild as possible."

"Of course," she replied as the kettle whistled. "How much sugar in your 'World's Greatest Teacher' mug?" she asked, lifting the mug into the air.

"A spoonful and not your spoonful," he answered, watching Althea put what she thought at tiny spoonful into the mug. "Did you buy yourself this mug?" he asked as Althea handed it to him.

"No," she said, placing two large spoonfuls of sugar consecutively into her mug. "Afina bought it for me. She thought I needed some cheering up after the disaster of Christmas 1990," she explained as she walked toward her chair.

"How could I have forgotten?" he teased and took a sip of tea. "I barely escaped Northfield with my honor."

"Yes, how could you? I mean, Gran still talks about it until this day," she replied as she sat in her chair. "I try to explain to her. I say, 'Look, Gran, John Harrington spent most of the 1980's in and out of rehab for his coke addiction. I don't want that.' Right?"

"Right, I never much liked him anyway," he replied, frowning slightly. "That smarmy—"

"She replies with, 'You're thirty-_three_, you're past the age of where you can be picky, Althea Rosemary.' Don't laugh," she said, fighting her own smile. She tapped the side of her mug with her manicured nails. "By the way, how was your first day of teaching?" she asked and took a sip of tea.

"It went well," he said casually, taking a sip of tea. "The third-years effectively rid the staffroom wardrobe of the boggart."

The mischievous smile had returned to her lips. "I'm impressed. I heard Mr. Longbottom was _particularly effective_ in ridding the staffroom wardrobe of the boggart," she said as she held the mug to her lips and waited for Remus's reaction.

Remus stroked the graying hair out of his face and laughed quietly. "I see news still travels quickly here."

"It does when it concerns Snape," she said, taking another sip of tea, "the awful bastard."

"You still don't trust him, do you?" Remus asked, resting the mug on his knee.

Althea shook her head and frowned. "It's not that, Remus. I mean, if Dumbledore trusts him, obviously there must be _something_ there that I don't see. Look, he hired me didn't he?"

Althea gently bit her bottom lip and stared at her old friend. She never understood why Dumbledore hired Snape; moreover, why Dumbledore hired her. Dumbledore knew she was a murderess for he presided over her trial. At the trial, she felt Dumbledore's piercing eyes examine her, recognizing that it was not Kelly Derry but Althea Morrigan on trial.

"Then what is it about Snape?" Remus asked, stroking the side of his teacup.

"Harry," Althea sighed and Remus nodded. "He treats Harry like he's James. He never gave Harry a chance."

"Yes, I've seen the look he gives Harry. It's the same look he gives us," he responded and took a long sip of tea. "Harry…doesn't know about you?" he asked, wiping the corner of his mouth.

Althea sighed and gazed out the window. "No, he doesn't, and I don't ever want him to know," she replied, looking at the sparrow as it hopped along her window. "I don't know how he could handle the news."

"That you knew them," he said. "That you knew the circumstances of their death."

Althea turned her head back toward her friend and placed the cup of tea on her desk. "Exactly, and the questions that it would bring," she said, leaning forward in her chair. "How could you tell someone that—God, I can't even say it!"

Althea buried her face in her hands. How could she tell Harry that his own godfather betrayed his parents and Harry? It was impossible. Harry would not understand, and twelve years later, she still did not understand. It was too horrible. She had her chance to talk with him at the start of his first year. She could have innocently introduced herself, but she was too afraid. She knew Lily would be disappointed in her, but Althea had made her choice. _He would think that I abandoned him, but he was taken from us…just as Prudence_, she thought and sighed heavily.

"Althea," he said, and Althea heard the chair shift. She soon felt his hand resting on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his arm. "I haven't spoken to Harry, either. I'm just his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and I doubt I'll be anything more," he continued, smoothing the hair away from her face. "I wouldn't know where to begin—"

Suddenly, the door swung open, which startled the two, and Remus quickly retracted his hands. Standing in the doorway was Snape, with his arms folded, scornfully looking at the pair. Althea's stomach lurched forward and Remus hastily sat back in his chair. _What does he want_, she thought, tugging at her sleeves.

"I should have known," he sneered, looking at the pair disdainfully.

"What do you need, Snape?" Althea asked, sitting upright in her chair.

"I need to speak with Lupin, but I won't interrupt your _friendly_ conversation," he said, turning up his long hooked nose at them.

"I'll talk with you later," Remus replied, rubbing his hands together. "Good day, Severus."

Without uttering any pleasantries, he turned quickly on his heel and walked out of Althea's office.

"I really can't picture him in a vulture hat. I see him more in a floppy hat with a large bow, and wearing a grotesquely pink bridesmaid dress," she remarked, leaning back in her chair. "I think it would bring out the color of his eyes."

"He hasn't changed a bit," he said and wrinkled his nose. "He's already convinced we're sleeping together, isn't he?"

Althea rolled her eyes in disgust. "Snape believes that I have slept with every Defense Against the Dark Arts professor since I've been here," she explained and made a face. "If Quirrell wasn't abysmal enough, _Lockhart_, I ask you."

"Oh dear," Remus replied, rubbing his chin. "I don't understand his appeal…. I honestly don't. I remember you sent me one of his books for a laugh and I never finished it. I think I used it for kindling while in Burkina Faso."

"Exactly," she replied, smiling to herself that Remus would do such a thing. "Oh, I used to have fun with him though," she continued, tracing circles into the wood grain of her desk. "I'd ask him all sorts of questions about his book on werewolves. Of course, he didn't know the answer so he'd _ooze_ his charm—bloody hell, was he smarmy. He would say that it's too complicated for a Muggle Studies professor to know, and what would _I_ know, right?" she explained and laughed, shaking her head. "God, I hate him, but Snape still believes those old rumors from our time here."

"Well you _have_ slept with one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that I know of," he said, furrowing his brow as if deep in thought.

"What do you mean?" she said in defiance, leaning forward. "I have not!"

"Yes, you have," he said, smiling to himself. "Me, or have you forgotten? I doubt you've forgotten as you've brought up the topic on numerous occasions."

"Oh, that doesn't count," she replied, dismissively waving her hand. "That was ages ago!"

Remus laughed loudly. "Doesn't count? If _I_ said it didn't count, you'd start to cry and say how horrible I am!" he replied, running his hands through his hair.

"We were _fifteen_," she replied, crossing her legs. "We barely knew what we were doing—I just sort of lay there and you lasted all of like two minutes."

"I still enjoyed it."

"Well, yeah."

Remus coughed in an attempt to stifle his laughter. "I suppose you'll add that I was under the influence of the upcoming full moon?"

"Your words," she replied, fighting a smile. "I do remember you used that excuse once when attempting to rationalize years later."

"And what's your excuse?" he asked, smiling wryly.

"Hormones," Althea replied, winking.


	7. Hogwarts, Late September 1975

**Hogwarts, Late September 1975**

"Althea, didn't you hear what I asked?" Remus asked, placing his quill before him. "Althea?"

Althea sighed dreamily as she twirled her quill, creating spirals and other doodles on her homework parchment. The warm autumn sunset flooded through the library windows, causing Althea to grow drowsy. How could she concentrate when she received a letter from her father? Since her father's new assignment in Romania, his letters were few, but each significant for Althea. She reread each of his letters continuously, memorizing each part. She desperately missed her father. He was unable to spend most the summer before her fifth year with her, and Althea was forced to spend the majority of her summer with her grandmother. Her only joys that summer were spending time with Lily's family, the trip to Greece (until it was ruined by Sirius—oh, of all the people she could see!), and the gift her father gave her for her birthday. It was a book of classic Muggle poetry, but to Althea, it was a cherished treasure. She had already bookmarked a few of her favorite poems, and read them—sometimes aloud to Lily and Jane, her two closest friends.

Remus sighed and gently took Althea's quill from her hands. "Althea, this Arithmancy paper won't finish itself," he said, pointing to the paper before him.

Althea yawned, leaned back in her chair, and stretched her arms above her head, arching her spine. She quickly sat up straight, and noticed Remus quickly turn his blushing face away from her. _Was he just looking…at my breasts_, she wondered with eyebrow raised. Althea bit her lip to hide a smile.

"I know," Althea lamented, taking her quill from his hands, "but how many essays do we have to write on the number seven?"

"Too many, I think," he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "We should probably take a break anyway. We've been working on this paper too long."

Althea lazily shook her head in agreement. The paper for Arithmancy was not due for another week, but Remus always liked to finish papers early. He never knew when something would come up—like another paper or another visit to his sick mother. It seemed as if every month Remus had to leave to visit his sick mother. Remus ran his fingers through his light brown hair, his sleeve moving, exposing shiny pink scars on his wrist. Althea knew where these scars came from and had known for a long time, but she did not dare tell Remus that she knew he was a werewolf. She had known since the middle of her fourth-year, when her father sent her the book he had written on shape shifters and werewolves; otherwise, she probably would never have known—he hid it so well. She wondered if his friends even knew. Remus's lycanthropy did not scare her; on the contrary, it intrigued her, which she knew it should not have. Everything she had been taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts suggested that the werewolf was a dark creature—one of the darkest of creatures—a damned soul. Althea wondered when it happened—was he bitten? Was he born that way? Althea frowned slightly. No, werewolves were only created with a bite upon the full moon. She swallowed—who would bite a child? The thought sickened her.

However, the thought of Remus as werewolf still held some disbelief for Althea. To her, Remus was kind, gentle, good-natured, and calm—not the qualities of a werewolf. Werewolves were like Sirius Black. Althea pulled a face. _Black wouldn't hesitate to bite me_, she thought. She could never imagine the mild-mannered, _prefect_, Remus turning into some voracious killer, but he did every full moon…or at least she imagined so. No, she was jumping to conclusions—her father's books had the tendency to do that in her. When she was twelve, she was convinced the Astronomy teacher was part vampire. Her assumptions, of course, were false, just as those of Remus. Remus was _not _a werewolf—his mother was truly ill. As she boarded the train this year, she saw his mother—she did look so ill. _It must be difficult to tend to a mother that is so ill_, she thought, tracing small circles into her parchment. _I do hope they discover some treatment that will help her_.

Althea humorously studied Remus, as he sat next to her, enveloped in his Arithmancy textbook. How could he show such deep concentration on such a boring subject? _He probably doesn't want to waste time, so he wants finish this horrid thing_, she thought as she continued to observe him. Remus sat in deep concentration, methodically running his fingers along each paragraph, and only stopping to write deliberately with his quill on his homework parchment. So entranced in his work, he did not notice as his hair loosely fell into his pale face. Without realizing it, she lifted her hand and stroked the loose strands behind his ear as he reread a paragraph.

Remus turned toward her—his cheeks a pale shade of pink—and Althea took in a small, sharp breath.

"Er—your hair—it was falling in your eyes," she said and gently bit her bottom lip. "It couldn't have been comfortable."

"Thank you," said with a small smile. "I really should get it cut—shouldn't I?"

"No," she whispered and her eyes widened slightly. "I mean—it's—"

"Right," he breathed.

Althea felt her neck flush with warmth, but she did not have the courage to adjust her collar for fear of the blush traveling up to her face.

Remus took in a gulp of air. "Let's finish this paper," he said quickly, looking into her eyes.

Althea breathed in a deep gulp of air and nodded her head. "Right," she managed to say, and turned back to the homework paper before her.

Althea sighed and nervously tapped her quill against the edge of her textbook as she read and reread the paragraph on the eighth property of the number seven. _This is not working_, she thought as she reread the last sentence at the end of the page. _I can't understand this—not now_. Slowly, she turned her eyes in the direction of Remus. He looked as if he was struggling to keep his concentration as well. Althea saw Remus' pale eyes slowly turn in her direction and she quickly looked back at her book as if deep in thought. Suddenly, she felt his hand brush gently against hers. Her body became rigid and, with forced concentration, she reread the last sentence again. This time, the letters meshed together forming words she had never seen before and Althea quickly closed her eyes,

Althea abandoned the idea of finishing her Arithmancy paper. _I want him to kiss me_, she thought as she pretended to read._ I've waited for two years...two years working together, revising together…and I've hinted about Hogsmeade! This waiting, this touching…if he doesn't, I will_.

Althea gazed at Remus as the setting sun highlighted the amber and light blond strands of hair that fell into his pale eyes. To her, Remus was very handsome. He was quiet—some thought bookish (Althea did not agree, she saw him often nod off during classes)—and one would not notice him right away in the presence of Sirius and James. _No one would notice the queen in the presence of Potter and Black_, she thought as Remus turned toward her. Althea caught her breath as Remus smiled. Gradually, he leaned closer to her, closing his eyes. Althea leaned closer as well, pausing before she closed her eyes so she wouldn't end up kissing his nose or chin. Closing her eyes, she could feel his warm shaky breath against her cheek, and she slowly let her lips intermingle with his….

Remus slightly moved away, biting his lip as if unsure of something. "So," he whispered and held her hand in his.

"So," Althea repeated quietly.

Remus cleared his throat. "Er—would you—I mean if you want to—I understand if you wouldn't want to—maybe go out with me sometime?" he asked and looked away from her.

"When?" Althea replied and smiled softly.

Remus turned his face toward her—a mixture of relief, shock, and amusement. "When—I mean—you—you—do want to go out with me then?"

Althea nodded. "Yes, I'd like to go out with you," she answered, smiling as she blushed.

Remus relaxed and let out a small laugh. "Right," he breathed and grinned.


	8. Hogwarts, December 1975

**Hogwarts, December 1975**

Althea curled herself up next to the window and watched as snowflakes fell and melted against the glass of her dormitory room window. The sun slowly descended, creating a kaleidoscope of red, orange, and yellow in the sleepy sky. The warm colors of the sunset reflected on the snow in the distance and gave the illusion of stained glass. Althea remembered her first snow at Hogwarts. She had never seen snow before, and the blankets of snow at sunset reminded her of the pink sand beaches her house in Bermuda overlooked. However, the snow was not as warm as the sand, and she could not believe something so beautiful would be so cold.

Althea traced small circles into the windowpane. _Althea, you should have said no, but you didn't_, she thought to herself as she watched the melted snow slowly drip down the windowpane. _You forgot yourself_. Althea frowned as she recounted her date with Remus. How could she have allowed herself—she was only fifteen? Resting her chin upon her bended knees, she wondered how she should feel. She did not feel ashamed or guilty—as she thought she would feel—and she certainly did not feel grown up. She raised her eyebrows slightly—she felt…good. Pleasant, actually. It was not supposed to feel good—no one told her it would feel good—but it did. _Marie could have said something_, she thought, covering her face with her hands. _Gran could have said something_—and Althea laughed hollowly—_as if she would have said something. 'By the way, Althea Rosemary, sex feels very good and it's very difficult to say no…would you like another cup of tea_?'

She could never tell Lily or Jane of what happened. They would not understand, and she did not understand herself. It happened rather quickly. She enjoyed the way his mouth felt against hers and did not resist as he slipped his hand under her robes. And when she felt him against her hip (which she still felt the sensation was shocking), he did not resist as she eased open his trousers. It was so haphazard—novice hands nervously fumbling about—by the time she grew accustomed to the foreign sensation it was over. Afterward, he looked so embarrassed and the two quietly dressed. Althea saw in his eyes that he desperately wanted to tell her something, but could not find the words to explain. She forced Remus to promise that they would never tell another soul of what happened. She hoped that Remus would keep his promise and not tell his friends what happened. She could imagine the leers from James and Sirius and the wide-eyed staring of Peter. She could hear the biting remarks and asides Sirius would make at every opportunity. _Fantastic, another rumor about me_, she thought and let out a small, disgusted laugh.

"Are you all right, Althea?" Lily asked, resting her hand on Althea's shoulder.

Althea turned to see her best friend full of concern. With all her strength, she kept her secret inside her. She desperately wanted to tell Lily everything. She wanted to tell Lily about her date with Remus and the two of them on the sofa in an abandoned study. However, she could not disappoint her friend. To Althea, Lily's opinion mattered most of all, and if she thought less of Althea, it would shatter her. Althea never had a brother or sister, and Lily was the closest person to a sibling she ever had.

Althea lowered her head. "No," she answered quietly.

Lily put her arms around Althea and rested her head on Althea's shoulder. "What happened? Did you and Remus break up?" she asked, hugging Althea tighter.

Althea sighed sadly inside Lily's embrace. "No, no. Remus had to go home early. His mum is sick again, so he had to go home," she replied, stroking Lily's arm. "He won't be here for the Winter Fête."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, resting her head atop Althea's. "Both of you were so looking forward to it."

"Thanks, but I'm worried about his mum," she replied in a distant voice.

She was worried about Remus. Tending to his mother was taking a toll on his health, and his studies would soon follow. Althea hoped his mother did not feel guilty. Earlier, at the announcement of the fête, his mother had sent him dress robes, but now he would not be able to wear them. Unless…Althea thought for a moment as she lifted her head. _It couldn't be_, she thought, frowning. _It is a full moon tomorrow, isn't it? It has to be a coincidence_. Was it? Althea thought to the last full moon and realized Remus' mother had been sick then—he had canceled their date, too. She had been sick in October and Althea copied her notes from Arithmancy for him…as she did once a month. _Maybe what I thought is true_, she thought, her eyes widening slightly. _He is a werewolf, or maybe his mother is, or maybe they both are_!

"Is she very sick?" Lily asked and Althea felt Lily sit behind her.

"She was getting better, but now she's worse," she answered.

"Last time he returned from his home he looked very ill," Lily said, which made Althea feel uncomfortable. "It's good he has you to care for him."

Lily's observation validated Althea's assumption. She had not wanted to believe her previous assumptions that he was a werewolf, but those previous assumptions and workings of her imagination were true…and Althea had sex with him. She had sex with a werewolf. It was understandable that she did not want to believe such a horrible thing. He did not deserve to be a werewolf; he was Remus—kind, good-natured, thoughtful Remus. _He did act strangely—of course, he'd act strangely! The full moon is tomorrow and he wasn't in his right mind_, she thought, a knot developing in her stomach. _But I was_. The knot in Althea's stomach enlarged and she buried her face in her hands from embarrassment. _If anyone ever discovers the truth, I'll be in massive trouble_, she thought, roughly rubbing her eyes. _He did try to tell me—tonight, other nights…. What would my reaction have been? 'Oh, Remus, I've known all along and nothing is the matter?' No, no, I'd want some time to think. I wouldn't break up with him—no, that would be awful and cruel. No, just time to think—to know how to handle it. I do care for him a lot…. Oh, bloody hell_. 

"Althea?" Lily whispered into Althea's ear.

Althea lifted her head. "Yes, it's very difficult for him and his family, but he doesn't like to talk about it," she said, removing Lily's arms from around her.

"Oh."

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore either," Althea said, standing.

Lily folded her hands in her lap. "Oh, right."

"I'm going to the common room for a while," she replied and sniffed.

Lily stood eying her friend, which made Althea more uncomfortable. "If you want to talk more, just tell me," Lily replied and gave Althea another hug. "I'll listen."

"Right," Althea murmured, letting go of Lily.

Althea walked down the staircase to the common room. She needed to be around other students. The other students would take her mind off her thoughts and her conversation with Lily. Althea was disappointed though; the only students in the common room were James, Sirius, and Peter. James sat next to Sirius by the fire, and when James spotted her, he smiled. _Probably wants to talk to me about Lily_, thought Althea as she smiled back.

"Morrigan!" James shouted happily. "Just the girl I wanted to see."

Althea turned on her heel and quickly walked toward the girls' dormitory stairs.

"Wait, I need to talk to you," James said, walking after her. "It's about Evans."

Althea rolled her eyes and turned around. James had asked Lily a dozen times to go to the Winter Fête with him and a dozen times to go on a date with him. Each time, Lily turned him down.

"Potter—" she winced.

"I was hoping that you could talk—well persuade—Evans into accompanying me to the Winter Fête," James said and smiled.

"No, I can't," Althea said.

James's smile quickly diminished.

"Potter she won't go with you," she said, rising and falling upon the balls of her feet. "She already has a date."

James's eyes widened. "What! That can't be true!"

Althea heard a fake cough and turned her attention toward the fireplace. Next to the fireplace sat Sirius—his legs elegantly draped across the large burgundy chair—who observed the conversation with an air of boredom. Peter, on the other hand, sat at the edge of his chair eagerly listening to the conversation.

"It is," she replied, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry."

It was difficult not to feel some sympathy for James—even though he could be an arrogant toerag. She knew that she would not be able to take that much rejection, and Althea wondered if Lily seemed to delight a little too much in rejecting him. He was cruel to her friend Snape, but Snape was not the kindest to Althea (she believed he thought her competition for Lily's affection) or—strangely—to the other Muggle-borns. She did not understand why he made that exception for Lily—even though Lily had let slip of Snape's dismal home life. He must have found respite with Lily.

James ran his fingers through his hair. "With who then? With who?"

"Mark Thompson," Althea said and winced—waiting for the eruption.

"Oh, _come on_!" Sirius said with disgust, throwing his head back in the chair.

"Mark Thompson?" James repeated quietly.

Althea nodded her head.

"The Chaser from Ravenclaw…the Chaser from Ravenclaw," James kept repeating, "the Chaser from Ravenclaw…."

"Sorry, Potter," she said and bit her bottom lip. "I don't like him either. I reckon she could do better."

"Of course, she could," Sirius said and thrust his hand toward James. "James bloody Potter!"

"Right, right," he mumbled as he messed his hair. "What has Thompson got that I don't have?"

Sirius shrugged. "Membership in the Slug Club?"

James made a retching noise.

"There's nothing I can do," Althea said and shrugged.

James shook his head. "Yes, yes there is."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Listen, Morrigan, you've got to tell Evans that I _have_ to go to the Winter Fête with her," James pleaded, resting his hands on Althea's shoulders. "Tell her it's a matter of life or death."

Althea sighed. "Potter, she's not going with you. How many times has she said no?" she reminded, staring into the disappointed face of James. "She won't break her promise to Thompson."

"_Morr-i-gan_!" James said eagerly, slightly shaking Althea. "Come on, do this for one of your teammates."

Althea heard Sirius sigh and looked in his direction. He had covered his face to hide his laughter. Peter mumbled something to Sirius and Sirius erupted with laughter.

"Potter, she won't," she said ruefully, gently taking James's hands off her shoulders. "She's chosen Thompson."

James rubbed his chin for a minute in deep, but frantic thought. "I've got it," he said, smiling. "You tell her to go with me to the Winter Fête and you can go with Sirius. Remus said one of us should go with you, anyway."

Althea laughed with surprise. "Black?" she said and smoothed the hair from her face. "Are you mad?"

Sirius quickly stood from his chair. "What? No!" he said—his voice cracking. "I wouldn't go with her. Have her go with Peter instead," he said, pointing to Peter who had his mouth open.

"Me, I couldn't," Peter said, shaking his head. "I've got a date."

Sirius growled, walking forward. "No, mate, no," he said, pointing his finger at James. "I don't want to ruin my reputation!"

"What?" Althea huffed, folding her arms. "_Your _reputation? Oh, that's rich, Black—"

"It's true," he said, his eyes wide. "It would be like taking Snape!"

Althea laughed lowly. "I'd like to see that."

Sirius's nostrils flared.

Althea took a step forward, uncrossing her arms. "Am I not good enough for you?" she teased and Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. "Not enough of a Muggle?"

Sirius went pale.

"Really, I'd love to know why you won't escort me to the Winter Fête?"

Sirius looked as if he were to throw up. "Because you're Morrigan," he said, folding his arms.

"Because I'm Morrigan? That is the _most_ ridiculous answer," she replied and folded her arms.

Sirius wrinkled his nose and looked at her as if he was inspecting her. "And your eyes sort of cross," he said, gesturing with his fingers. "Are you looking at Peter or me? I can't tell—"

"You are such a berk—"

"And you have freckles," he said, pointing to her face.

Althea rolled her eyes. "Is that the _best_ you can do?"

"Freckles?" James said, looking at Althea's face. "I don't see any freckles."

"You'll have to get _closer_ to notice them," Althea replied, looking directly at Sirius, her lips curved in an amused smile.

James walked closer to Althea and squinted as he looked at her. Althea tried to hide her laughter.

"Oh yeah, _now_ I see them, but you have to get real close," he said and turned toward Sirius. "How d'you notice them from so far away?"

"He didn't," Althea said, smirking.

An uncomfortable Sirius sat down, folded his arms, and looked into the blazing fire in the fireplace.

"Anyway, I'd rather go with Snape," she added, waiting for Sirius's reaction.

"That can be arranged," he sighed, still staring into the fire.

Althea gave a deep sigh and unfolded her arms. "I'll leave you to sulk," she said and turned toward the girls' dormitory. "Honestly, ask another girl before it's too late, which I think it might be."

"Thanks, Morrigan, I have a few just in case."

"However," she began and turned to look at the boys, "it would be to your _benefit_ that if you _really_ wanted to go out with Lily, to maybe end _certain_ friendships," she finished, staring directly into Sirius' eyes.

Sirius jumped from his chair and rushed before her. "You take that back, Morrigan! You'll regret you said that!" he shouted, standing eye to eye with her.

Althea stood her ground. "No, I won't take it back!"

"Fine then, fine," he said angrily, and clenched his fists at his sides.

Althea moved closer to Sirius. "Then do it. Hex me. Come on, blast me across the room."

Silence shrouded the room as Sirius and Althea stared each other down. Sirius's lips thinned and his jaw tightened. For a moment, Althea thought Sirius would blast her across the room. She did not have her wand with her, but clenched her right hand into a fist.

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek and backed away from her. "You are insufferable," he remarked and shook his head.

Althea turned and walked toward the girls' dormitory. _God, he is such an arrogant idiot_, she thought, her fingers gliding along the railing. _Good one, though, 'not enough Muggle.' Serves him right, Muggles aren't playthings_. As she climbed the stone steps, James began to shout at Sirius. Althea stopped to listen.

"You stupid git, now you've messed my chance with Evans!" James yelled.

"_Me_? What about _you_? Why not go with Sirius?"

Althea held onto the railing and leaned closer to hear the conversation.

"It was a good idea," James said.

"No it wasn't," Sirius said warily. "What, was I supposed to tell her the truth?"

Althea raised her eyebrow—what truth?

"Good point," James sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Sirius sighed. "Anyway, she's Moony's girl."

Althea stopped listening and hurriedly climbed the steps upstairs. What truth? What did Sirius have to say to her? Why could he not tell her the truth? What did he mean by, 'Moony's girl'? Althea shook her head—she was even more confused. Tired, she flung herself onto her bed. Suddenly, she felt someone sit down at the end of her bed. It was Jane Meadows, who had a large smile across her face. Jane was pretty, and petite, with large blue eyes and long blonde hair that framed her heart-shaped face.

"Why are you so happy?" Althea asked, sitting up on her elbows.

"Oh, I have a date for the Winter Fête," Jane replied teasingly.

"Oh really," Althea replied, raising her eyebrow. "With who?"

"Sirius Black," Jane said proudly, her grin widening.

Althea sat up straight. "Sirius Black? Really," she said, trying to hide her surprise. "Not Regulus—Sirius?"

"Yes," she said excitedly, "_the _Sirius Black!"

Althea frowned thoughtfully and murmured, "So that's what he meant by truth."

"What are you talking about?" Jane asked.

"Oh no, nothing," she replied, quickly shaking her head. She forced a smile. "I'm happy for you. How did you manage it?"

Jane's smile turned smug. "It wasn't _me_, Althea. _He_ was the one that asked _me_," she said, sitting a little straighter.

_This must be Jane's greatest triumph_, Althea thought as she studied Jane. Jane was one of the girls that followed Sirius Black's every move. This year, for the first time Jane started to attend Quidditch matches—not to watch Althea—but to watch Gryffindor's new Beater, Sirius. Even girls from other Houses cheered Black, which angered their own boys and made Althea uncomfortable. It made her job as Seeker all that more difficult.

"So, our Jane has told you the good news," Lily said, leaning against the bedpost with her arms folded.

"Yeah, she's going with Black and you're going with Thompson," Althea said, lying back on her bed, "and I'm going with no one."

"Well, you could always go with Potter," Lily said with a wink.

"Very funny, but he has asked me to ask you if you would reconsider his offer."

Lily wrinkled her nose.

"He really wants to go with you, Lily," she said, smiling impishly. "I think he _loves_ you," she added in a hushed tone.

Lily groaned and threw the pillow at Althea. Althea put her arms in front of her to block Lily's pillow.

"So your answer is still no, then?" she asked, throwing Lily's pillow back to her bed.

"Would it be any other answer?" Lily asked, looking incredulously at Althea.

"Of course not," Althea replied and rolled over onto her stomach. "Of course not."


	9. Hogwarts, Winter Fête, December 1975

**Hogwarts, Winter Fête, December 1975**

"Althea, how does my hair look?" Jane asked, standing in front of the mirror.

"It looks fine, like I said five minutes ago," Althea sighed, as she leaned against the wall.

_It'll get messed up anyway, knowing Black_, Althea thought to herself as Jane continued to fuss over her hair. _You'll be in an abandoned study before the ball is over_. Althea decided she would not attend the Winter Fête, and would stay in the Gryffindor common room. She believed it was a perfect opportunity to write her father, who had informed her he would be unable to visit her over the Christmas Holiday. Therefore, instead of spending her Christmas Holiday in Romania as she had planned, she would be spending her holiday with her grandmother. It would be the worst two weeks of her life.

"Althea, are you sure you don't want to attend?" Lily asked, resting her hand on Althea's shoulder. "I feel terrible leaving you here."

"I'm fine, really. Go and enjoy yourself," Althea reassured in feigned happiness.

Althea gazed at Lily—she looked amazing. Lily's light blue chiffon gown complemented her dark red hair and sparkling emerald eyes. Althea rested her hands on Lily's shoulders.

"Lily, you really shouldn't dress like that. Potter might hex your date," she said and smiled.

Lily laughed. "Oh that won't be a problem tonight," said Lily. "He's not going."

"Not going?" Althea and Jane said in unison.

"Of all people, I would have thought you and Potter would have had dates," Jane said to Althea.

Althea frowned—it was meant to hurt her. For once, Jane was in the spotlight and not Althea. Unlike Althea who seemed to attract it without provocation, Jane craved attention. Jane always seemed to be in the background of the friendship between the three. Even though the three were the same year, Lily and Althea always felt like they had been sisters and Jane was someone they had just met at Hogwarts. Althea did not like her as much as Lily did. She thought Jane to be erratic at times and even insensitive, but Jane was a loyal friend to Lily and Althea would not disagree otherwise.

"My date was Remus," Althea said as she handed Jane mascara.

"Yes, that is a pity," Jane said, turning toward the mirror and applying another coat of mascara. "Too bad for you his old mum got sick again."

"I think you're finished with that mascara," Althea said tersely, and grabbed the mascara tube from Jane's hand.

"Touchy, touchy," Jane teased. "Well, I'm ready for my date," she added gleefully.

Althea rolled her eyes.

Lily frowned.

"Have a good time," Althea said, attempting to sound cheerful. "And don't worry about me, Lily," she added quietly as Lily was leaving.

"I can't help it," she said and gave Althea a hug.

Althea entered common room and watched as the last of the couples left for the Great Hall. She sighed disappointedly as she sat at one of the common room tables. _Stupid full moon_, she thought, taking out a piece of parchment. _Why must you come out for the Winter Fête? Couldn't you let Remus have one night of happiness and normality_? However, Althea knew that if Remus could have gone, he would not have enjoyed the ball. He would have gone for her benefit, and Althea would have felt guilty. She imagined him sitting at one of the tables as Althea danced with her girlfriends and his awkward hesitation at the slow songs.

Althea dipped her quill into the inkwell. She had begun her greetings to her father, when a dejected James Potter interrupted her writing. James angrily sat in a chair by the fireplace and folded his arms. Althea could not help but notice James as he sat and wallowed in his misery. She frowned sympathetically at him—he looked pathetic. The Quidditch hero, dateless for the Winter Fête. _Potter, there were loads of girls who would have loved to go to the Winter Fête with you_, she thought as she twirled her quill in her fingers. _You wasted your time chasing after Lily, maybe you'll learn…maybe_.

"So, you're not going to the Winter Fête, then?" asked Althea, resting her quill on her parchment.

James answered with some sort of grunting noise that Althea understood as yes.

"I'm sorry I couldn't convince her. I did try, you know."

James grunted again.

"Potter, I know you're a better conversationalist than this," she said and picked up her quill again.

Just as Althea was about to write the first letter of the next sentence, James began to speak in a distant voice, "The two people who should have dates."

"We are a sorry lot," she sighed, and started writing the next sentence.

Suddenly, she felt a thump on the table, which jarred her hand slightly from the word she was writing. James stood before her his hands resting on the table. Althea did not like the mischievous look in his eye—she knew he was plotting something.

"Go upstairs and get dressed. We're going to that damn thing," he said with determination.

Althea narrowed her eyes. "You're going to hex Lily's date, aren't you?"

James gasped. "Morrigan, I wouldn't do such a thing," he said with mock indignation. "I thought it would be better than staying in this boring common room."

"It would be better, but what would everyone think?" she wondered, leaning back in her chair. "Me—dating Remus—going to the Winter Fête with his best friend, while he is tending to his ill mother. Yet another shocking and nasty rumor."

"But you know where my heart will always be—with Lily Evans," he said, placing his hand on his chest.

Althea rolled her eyes. "How could I not?"

"Great! It's settled then," James said happily. "Go upstairs, get dressed, and do all that other girl stuff you have to do."

Althea looked down at her parchment and then at James, who mockingly pouted. Althea could not help but laugh.

"Fine," she sighed and rolled up her parchment. "We'll go, but I'm keeping you away from Lily and Thompson—"

"Morrigan—"

"_And_ if you think of hexing him—I'll hex you," she added, standing.

"I won't," James said and mockingly shivered. "I've seen your work."

"Of course, you have."

Out of James and Sirius, Althea had always liked James the best. She admired his confidence and skill on the Quidditch pitch and his positive attitude. She could tolerate his arrogance to a point, but unlike Sirius, James knew when to stop. Of course, Althea did not like Snape—he preferred to keep his distance and spitefully call her names from under his breath. However, Althea felt Sirius was overly cruel to Snape—especially when she was around.

Althea hurriedly searched her trunk for her dress.

"Where is it?" she muttered, tossing her silver shoes to her side. "I don't want to wear the dress Gran bought me."

Her head, arms, and torso up to her waist were inside her trunk, searching for her dress. Althea let out a noise of triumph for, carefully folded at the bottom of her trunk, was her dress. Althea proudly held it up before her and examined it—no one would have a dress like hers. That summer, while her grandmother was out, Althea started to search the gigantic attic of her grandmother's house. In an old chest, she discovered her dress for the Winter Fête underneath a photograph of her Great Grandmother Morrigan at a ball over seventy years ago. Althea thought it perfect and sought to borrow it for an evening such as this. Althea quickly undressed and gently slipped the delicately beaded gown over her hips, praying nothing would rip or break. She did not want to wear the awful gown her grandmother bought her over the summer. The gown Gran thought to be appropriate—the navy blue gown with the high collar and long sleeves (the fabric was scratchy as well).

"Maybe I should charm my breasts smaller?" Althea mumbled aloud, as she gazed into the mirror. "I look like an Edwardian prostitute."

Althea pulled the bodice higher in an attempt to hide her breasts, but to no avail. Was there a charm to alter the dress? _The only Clothing Charms I know are to shorten skirts_, she thought and wrinkled her nose. She turned her torso to look at her chest in the mirror. _It's the same cut as Jane's frock, I think_? Althea examined the dress closely. The floor-length, satin gown was cream, with beads delicately sown into floral patterns along the bodice. Althea draped the burgundy velvet cloak over her bare shoulders, slipped on her long cream gloves, and examined herself again in the mirror for the last time. She fixed her hair that fell loosely down to the small of her back and reapplied her lipstick. _I'm acting like Jane now…maybe this wasn't such a great idea_, she thought as she pulled the cloak tighter around her neck. _Ugh, and wearing it with Potter…this night can't get worse_.

"Gran will kill me," she added and pulled a face. "Maybe I should wear that other gown—oh, but it's so bloody awful! I'd be laughed at if I wore it…. No, this one will do."

Althea hurriedly walked down the stairs to see James patiently waiting by the fireplace. "Are you ready _now_?" James asked.

Althea frowned. "Let's go."

As James and Althea approached the Great Hall, the Wizarding rock music echoed out into the corridor. She smiled with relief—she would be spared from having to actually dance with James Potter.

"I'll find Sirius," James said as they approached the doors to the Great Hall.

Althea nodded. "And we don't have to dance—"

James sighed. "Thank you, Morrigan," he said with a relieved smile. "Shall we?"

Althea inhaled deeply. "You first."

James pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and Althea gasped at the sight before her. The Great Hall glowed from the hundreds of candles that floated beneath the enchanted star-filled ceiling. Althea inhaled deeply at the pleasant smell of evergreen and smiled at the fairies that hung on the dozens of fir trees decorated for the Christmas season. James and Althea proceeded through the Great Hall amid stares and whispers.

"So, what should we do?" Althea asked nervously—she did not enjoy the stares.

"Find a table?" he replied, wary of the stares.

Althea and James found a table in relative darkness compared to the rest of the Great Hall. Althea took off her cloak and sat down, rolling her shoulders forward. The two sat in silence as they watched the other couples laughing and dancing. Ever so often, James would sniff, mess his hair, or tap the table with his fingers. Althea felt guilty—she should not have gone. _At least I'm not having a good time_, she thought as Jane giggled uncontrollably at a joke Sirius had just told.

"Sirius," James muttered, standing.

Althea sighed, leaning back in her chair as James Potter had joined Sirius.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered and abruptly stood.

As Althea stood by the long table of sweets, she felt a sharp nudge in her side. Althea looked to her right and saw Lily frowning. Althea placed her half-eaten cake upon the table as Lily grabbed her arm.

"Althea!" she admonished, guiding Althea through a crowd of students to a secluded corner. "What are you doing with Potter?"

"We were bored and decided to come," she explained, prying Lily's hand from her arm. "I felt sorry for him—he looked pathetic."

"Pathetic?" Lily repeated. Althea saw a small gleam in her eye.

Althea's eyes narrowed. "Yes, pathetic," she repeated cautiously. "Don't worry; he won't bother you and Thompson. He promised."

"Oh, and I trust his word—"

"He couldn't be apart from Black," she said, pointing to the two boys. "See, now I don't have to spend anymore time with him."

"Good," she said. "Do you think they'll dance?"

"Who? Black and Potter?" she asked and cocked her head to the side as she studied the two boys. James, smiling, clapped Sirius upon the back. Sirius weakly smiled. "They'd argue about who would lead."

Lily laughed quietly and interlocked her arm with Althea. "Thank you for coming, anyway. Mark is _so_ boring," she said, and the two girls laughed.

"How is our dear Jane?" Althea asked, searching the crowd for their friend.

"Oh, just splendid!" Lily said in haughty voice. "I had to leave her, though. I couldn't stand to hear another, 'Oh, Sirius, you're so clever,'" she added, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Althea laughed, eyeing Sirius. "His head might explode from flattery…. I could only hope."

Lily groaned. "Ugh, Thompson," she said and nodded at the boy with blond hair walking toward them.

Thompson offered his arm to Lily. Lily smiled as she reluctantly took his arm. She looked toward Althea.

"I'll be okay," she said and winked.

Althea watched Lily and Thompson disappear into the crowd. Soon, more couples joined the dance floor and Althea remained on the periphery, watching them. She arched an eyebrow at McGonagall dancing with Professor Flitwick. Despite the odd pairing, the couple was rather graceful as they spun across the dance floor. Althea sighed wistfully as she looked at the couples and soon found herself gently swaying to the music.

"Would you care to dance?" she heard the smooth voice of Sirius whisper into her ear.

Althea became rigid and the back of her neck tingled. "I reckon your _date_ wouldn't like that very much."

"I don't think she'll mind," he said, and motioned with his hand over his shoulder.

James tightly held Jane, spinning her around as fast as he could across the dance floor—her friend squealing and giggling with delight. _I'm taking back your Christmas present, Jane_, she thought as she stared at dancing couple.

"Why do you want to dance with me?" she asked, eyeing him incredulously.

"Why not?" he replied, holding out his hand. "Let's just say I've been filled with the Christmas Spirit," he added, smiling. "Also, we'd be the only two _not_ dancing, and wouldn't that look awful."

"I don't think it's a good idea—"

"Is that—is that _Snape_ dancing?" he asked, his eyes wide.

Althea furrowed her eyebrows and looked in the direction of his stare. "Where?" she asked eagerly, rising and falling on the bottoms of his feet.

Sirius chuckled softly. "You really think that—"

Althea frowned at him.

"—would be here? He's not dancing, and neither are you."

"Black—"

Sirius leaned close and whispered, "Don't be a coward, Morrigan."

"It's not cowardly. I just—"

"Dance with me…please."

Althea gently bit her bottom lip as she surveyed the scene before her—they were the only two not dancing.

"It's Christmas," he whispered, his warm breath warming her cheek.

"If I must," she sighed and reluctantly took his hand.

Althea became rigid as Sirius placed his hand upon her middle back. _Oh, I don't believe this_, she thought, finding it difficult to breathe. Althea concentrated upon Sirius' shoulder, aware that students have noticed the pair dancing. She glanced to her side—Lily, puzzled, looked upon the couple with her mouth slightly parted. Althea sighed—she knew upon the song's end that Lily would painfully pull at her arm and drag her to the corner to question her…to question her loyalty. Althea had to admit that Sirius was handsome—if not gorgeous. He was tall—and Althea realized as she held him—with an athletic body (her neck and torso flushed at this observation). His face was handsomely featured with a perfect white smile, and his hair lazily, but nobly fell into his lively grey eyes.

"Lily won't dance with Potter," she said as the two danced.

"I'm aware," he murmured, staring into her eyes.

Althea diverted her eyes to the collar of his dress robes. "You should really dance with Jane."

Sirius shrugged. "I'll dance with whomever I please," he said as he slid his hand to the small of her back.

Althea's eyes widened slightly. "Have you heard from Remus?"

Sirius frowned slightly. "No."

"Oh," she murmured as Jane spotted the two dancing—Jane narrowed her eyes. "I just—I just wondered how his mother was doing?"

"All right, I guess," he said, and she realized that his hand had become moist upon the small of her back.

"So, have you found anything wrong with me yet? I know how you love to announce my shortcomings."

"No," he replied as he held her closer to him.

Althea felt unnerved and quickly looked to his forehead. "Well, you must find _something_," she said, a devious smile developing on her face, "besides my freckles."

Sirius frowned.

"Well, if you do find something, please tell me. I'd hate to offend you."

"Not tonight, Morrigan," he said with a small smile.

"What?"

Sirius twirled her around very fast, holding her close to his chest. "What if I told you I was madly in love with you?"

Althea held onto him tighter as not to fall. _What kind of question is that_, she thought, confused. For a moment, she actually thought he meant it.

"Aren't you going to answer?" he asked.

"I would tell you that I ardently despise you," she replied, looking into his eyes.

"Of course, you would," he replied with a slight smile. "This is a long song isn't it?" he muttered, looking over Althea's shoulder.

"Yes," she replied, turning her head to see what caught his attention. Lily had rested her head on Mark Thompson's shoulder.

Sirius sighed. "I suppose we should conduct some small talk. I could compliment on your gown," he said, drawing her attention away from the dancing couple. "Then you could compliment on my robes," he added as they turned. "I'll start," he said, and paused as he looked her up and down—Althea wished she still had her cloak on. "Morrigan, you look lovely in your gown tonight," he commented and Althea skeptically raised an eyebrow. "Now you; say something about my robes."

"What are you getting at, Black?" she asked as Sirius frowned slightly.

"Why must everything be an argument with you?" he asked, somewhat annoyed. "Can't even make a simple compliment—"

"Fine then, you have soft lips," she answered, and smiled slightly as he attempted to make sense of her comment.

_Just the effect I was hoping for_, she thought triumphantly, _he doesn't know what to make of it_.

"After the incident in the library," she continued, as he stared at her strangely—she could not determine if it was amusement, embarrassment, or a mixture of the two. "I meant to tell you, but you were too occupied acting unconscious."

"Well, you did hit me in the head with a very thick book," he replied as the song mercifully finished.

"It wasn't the thickest, though."

"No."

"You can let go of me now, Black. The song has ended," she replied, pulling away from him.

"Right," he breathed and ran his fingers through his thick black hair.

As she walked away from Sirius, she felt his eyes following her. _Don't look back_, she thought as she reached her table. _You know he's looking at you and don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at him_. Althea grabbed her cloak and proceeded to make her way through the crowd of couples dancing. She had enough of the dance, and the possibility of dancing with Sirius again unnerved her. _I really do not understand that boy_, she thought as she navigated her way to the entrance of the Great Hall. _He absolutely hates me and yet he wants to dance with me? Honestly, did he forget who I was? Morrigan, the 'weak witch' as he so loves to say_.

However, Althea was not about to return to Gryffindor Tower—she knew Lily would follow shortly and question her about her choice of dance partner. What was she to say? It was all very odd. _He has acted so strange_, she thought, hiding behind a large statue as one of the professors past, v_ery strange this entire year_. Once the professor rounded the corner, Althea charmed her shoes to quiet and proceeded down the corridor. _One moment, he's exceedingly nice to me, and then the next moment, he's exceedingly awful_, she thought, wrapping the cloak tighter around herself. _It's Remus, isn't it? He's attempting to be nice to me for Remus' sake because we are dating. No, he was attempting to be nice to you before that—oh, never mind. There is nothing to understand—he's an idiot_.

Althea quietly walked through Hogwarts, carefully avoiding wandering prefects and professors, until she reached the outside lawn. She picked up her gown as she carefully stepped through the snow toward the lake. _What was I thinking? I really should have changed_, she thought, holding the hem of her gown higher. As she walked along the edge of the lake, she gazed up at the cold night sky—thousands of stars and distant planets sprinkled the crisp wintry sky. The newly fallen snow, like the stars, produced a silver glow and twinkled in the moonlight. The large trees of the distant Forbidden Forest cast large blue shadows across the silver snow. All was quiet and timeless, except for Althea's footsteps. Soon, the chilly winter wind awakened and blew shimmering snow across her path. The thin, leafless trees swayed back and forth creaking like old doors. The sound of the wind passing through the ice-covered branches reminded her of the ocean water as it receded against the shell-covered beaches. Althea sighed contentedly, and watched as her warm breath intermingled with the cold air.

Suddenly, Althea heard a twig snap. The sharp sound caused her to jump, and Althea quickly turned around, but saw nothing. She continued walking, but careful of the noises around her. Again, Althea heard a twig snap and quickly turned around. Althea could not scream. Her eyes were transfixed on the growling werewolf twenty feet from her. Althea closed her eyes and took in a deep breath—there was no way of escaping. Instinctively, her right hand felt for her wand at her hip, but the dress—that Muggle dress—did not have a compartment for her wand. Panicked, she growled at her grandmother's wisdom in dress and her stupidity for leaving her wand upon her nightstand. She slowly took a step backward, but the werewolf stepped forward as well. _What if this is Remus_, she thought shivering from fright and cold, _maybe I can talk to him_?

"Remus—Remus, listen to me. This is Althea, Remus. Go away!" Althea thought she noticed something register inside the werewolf. "Remus, don't hurt me—you'll regret it. Remus, go away."

The werewolf turned its head to the side as if he understood her. Althea felt small relief—maybe it was Remus and maybe he would go away. Maybe it was possible to reason with a werewolf at the full moon. Suddenly, the werewolf charged at her and Althea's scream pierced the quiet night sky. _Right, talk to him, Althea. Maybe he'll understand you_, she thought sardonically as she ran in the snow. Althea ran as fast as she could, but the werewolf ran just as fast—leaping over snowdrifts.

"Bloody hell!" she gasped, the cold night air painfully contracting her lungs.

Somewhat disoriented, she found herself darting for the Forbidden Forest. It was dark, so dark Althea could not see a foot before her, and she hoped the darkness would conceal her from the werewolf. The snarling and gnashing of teeth alerted her to its presence. Still, Althea ran as fast as she could, tangled and scratched by branches of trees and bushes. She did not care what she met in the Forbidden Forest—anything was better than a werewolf. _This would be a good time to transform,_ she thought as her skirt caught on a low branch. _Transform as I did when I was eleven and my father told me I would live with Gran. I'm just as scared and upset, if not more—damn it, Daddy! Why didn't you tell me what I could do? I need it now_! Suddenly, Althea stumbled and tumbled down a cliff into a ravine. The branches and rocks tore at her arms and legs as she tumbled down to the bottom, where she came to rest upon a rock—Althea winced. Heaving herself forward, she rolled off the rock and crawled toward a tree. Resting the back of her head against the cold, moist tree trunk, she hesitated from taking a full, deep breath. At the bottom, all was quiet except for Althea's pained breathing.

From a few feet away, Althea heard the low growl of the werewolf. It was of no use to run—she was in no shape to run—and she was too full of adrenalin coursing through her veins for tears. Althea closed her eyes once more. _So, this is my death_, she thought as she tried to steady her breath. She sensed as the werewolf lunged at her and closed her eyes even tighter. Suddenly, she felt light, as if she was floating. _So, this is what death is like_. She rose higher and higher into the air. Althea opened her eyes. She did not see her mangled body next to the tree, but saw the werewolf violently shaking its head for it had just hit its head against the tree. She flew higher and higher out of the Forbidden Forest toward Hogwarts. Althea circled the entrance of the snow-covered courtyard. Although alive and safe, Althea wondered how she could return to her human self. _I'd bumped my head last time_, she thought, swooping to the courtyard below. As her tiny feet touched the ground, without realizing how she did it, she transformed—the cold ground shocked her skin and she winced.

Althea ran—limping—toward the entrance. She prayed she could slip upstairs to Gryffindor Tower undetected. She reached out her hand to open the heavy doors, but the doors opened for her. Sirius Black stepped through the doorway and yelped, leaping out of the way as Althea jumped and spun to avoid him.

"Morrigan!" he said, grabbing her arm.

Althea lurched forward—a sick feeling in her stomach. "Let me go, please!" she begged—her voice hoarse, pulling her arm away.

"Morrigan," he said, holding her arm tighter. "Morrigan, what happened?"

Althea spun to face him.

"My God," he breathed with a mild look of horror.

The adrenalin began to subside and the prickling, searing pain of her scratches and scrapes began to surface. Her torn gown was no longer cream, but mixture of brown and grey. She shivered as she stood—covered in snow, blood and mud.

"A werewolf—it's not safe—"

Sirius paled. "You're mistaken—"

"No!" she said and pulled him through the entrance. Althea quickly shut the door behind them. "I was chased by a bloody werewolf roaming Hogwarts!"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you—"

"_Yes_!" she replied and stomped her bare foot upon the stone floor. "A werewolf!"

Sirius looked panicked. "This isn't good," he said, rubbing the side of his face. "This isn't good."

"He's still out there—"

"No! No," he said and hesitantly placed his hands upon her shoulders. "You have to forget—"

"_Are you mad_?"

"You can't tell Dumbledore!" he blurted out—his expression wild.

Althea's eyes widened with fury. She knocked his hands from her in disgust. "I could've been killed—"

"I know, but—"

"You can't tell me what to do!" she growled and started to walk away.

Sirius grasped her arm, but Althea refused to stop. "Morrigan, don't!" he pleaded, his grip upon her arm painfully tight.

Althea quickly turned to face him. She felt his fingers trembling against her skin.

Sirius swallowed. "You can't…you just can't."

"Why?"

Sirius was silent—his expression one of someone carrying a great burden. He let go of her arm.

"_Why_?"

Sirius sniffed and looked to the ground. He shook his head.

"I can't tell you," he whispered. "I promised."

Althea caught her breath. "I know what Remus is," she said quietly, crossing her arms.

Sirius lifted his head—his lips slightly parted. His pained expression confirmed for her what she imagined to be true.

"It was Remus, wasn't it?"

Sirius refused to answer.

"It was Remus."

Sirius bit his bottom lip.

Althea stepped forward. "I have to tell Dumbledore, Black," she said, letting her arms fall to her sides. "He could bite someone—or even worse—kill…and you know what happens to those werewolves that have killed?"

Sirius inhaled through his nose.

"I don't care if you try to stop me," she said, narrowing her eyes. "It's the only way we'll protect him."

Sirius sighed and massaged the side of his face as he looked ahead of him. Finally, he nodded.

"But, I saved your life, right?"

Althea sneered. "Berk."

* * *

Dumbledore awarded fifteen points to Gryffindor. Althea received ten points for alerting the headmaster to Remus's escape (thankfully, she was not punished for her after hours walk—a chase from a werewolf was punishment, indeed), and Sirius received five points for his daring rescue of Althea (he was convinced he would have received more points if Althea had not laughed at the critical part of the story—when she fainted). Althea returned to Gryffindor Tower, and was pleased that Lily had not yet returned. _She must be enjoying her time with Thompson_, she thought as she shut off the tap to the bathtub. _I thought he was very boring_. Slowly, she slipped into the warm rose bubble bath and sank to the bottom—her muscles grateful for the soothing water. Althea rested her head against the back of the tub. _If I were Lily, I'd have gone with Potter; at least I'd know I'd laugh_. Althea quickly sat up—the soapy water lapping over the sides of the tub, splashing to the floor. _Why would you want your best friend to go out with someone she despises? It would be like you dating Black_, she thought and slowly rested her head against the back of the tub. _It's never going to happen_.

"Black," she murmured and made a face. "Such the bloody hero."

_Saving my life? He only cared because it could've gotten Remus expelled_, she thought, closing her eyes. The warm bath felt unnaturally cold and she shivered.

Her boyfriend tried to kill her tonight.


	10. Hogwarts, January 1976

**Hogwarts, January 1976**

Althea timidly walked into the library and nervously scanned each table for Remus. After the incident on the night of the Winter Fête, Althea desperately craved to talk with him, but Remus was quickly shuffled from the infirmary to his home. Over the Christmas Holiday, she had written him six times—each without a response. In her first three letters, she had not mentioned the incident and kept her letters light and cheerful. She understood that werewolves did not remember the full moon and Remus would not remember his attempted kill. However, as her owl returned without a response, Althea began to realize that Remus was told of the incident.

Near a bookcase of rarely used books, Althea glimpsed Remus—alone—sitting with his back turned to her feverishly writing. Althea quietly sat down next to him, and took out her homework. Remus, unaware of her presence, was intently writing—two rolls of written parchment rested by his hand.

"That can't be your homework."

"No, it isn't," Remus said quietly, not taking his quill or his eyes off the parchment.

Althea peered over his hand, but Remus quickly turned to shield her from the parchment. It was the first day of school after the Christmas Holiday, and it was the first exchange the couple had the entire day. Remus kept his distance from her: avoiding her at mealtime, in class, in the hallways, and in the common room. Althea reached for his quill and gradually pulled it from his hand—Remus did not resist. On his writing hand, she saw the healing wounds of the last full moon and was overcome by a brief feeling of nausea. She gulped.

"Remus I—"

"I received your letters," he said and produced the worn letters from his robe pocket. "I was writing to you…to explain everything."

"Everything?" she repeated quietly. "About you?"

Remus nodded solemnly. "Dumbledore told me of what happened," he said, looking to the parchment before him. "Madam Pomfrey found me that morning in the Forbidden Forest—"

"Outside?" she said, sitting forward. "You could've died!"

Remus smiled a small, bitter smile. "I would've chosen death over what I could've done to you."

"Kill me," she said and swallowed.

An odd shiver passed across Remus's face. "Yes," he said hoarsely. Refusing to look at her, he murmured, "I can't be with you anymore."

Althea's heart sank into her stomach. It was impossible for their relationship to continue and Althea knew this—the specter of that night would loom in their romantic relationship. It could not be overcome—Althea's life and health were at stake. There was always that chance no matter how careful that it could happen again and Althea might not be so lucky. She swallowed hard to suppress the small tears collected in the corners of her eyes. It had been dangerous to think his lycanthropy did not matter…when it was just a romantic notion of her imagination. She was, after all, Daniel Morrigan's daughter—a man, whose hobby was the study of werewolves. She, like her father, believed werewolves to be misunderstood…but she wondered if a transformed werewolf had ever chased her father.

"It's for your own good."

"I'll decide what is good for me," she said and sniffed.

Remus vigorously shook his head. "You _don't_ understand—"

"I do—"

"No," he said—his voice strained and urgent, "you have no idea. I should've told you what I am. What I did to you…my kind don't—"

"I knew before," she said and caught her breath.

Remus paled. "You knew before...?"

Althea nodded.

"It doesn't change anything," he said, and swallowed with a look of dread. "I've ruined you. I've just as good as bitten you, Althea."

Althea surveyed her surroundings before she replied, "I knew and I could've said no—"

"_Don't_," he said through clenched teeth—his lips thin.

Althea leaned forward, within inches of his face. "I know you are a werewolf," she whispered.

Remus looked as if she had used an Unforgivable Curse against him. "H—how did you know?"

"My father," she sighed.

"Your father?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "You—you didn't tell him?"

"No, of course not," she replied, vigorously shaking her head. "I would never tell, I swear to you. I've told _no one_."

Remus's fearful expression softened.

Althea opened her bag. "You see, he wrote a book about werewolves two years ago or so, and he sent me a copy," she explained, rummaging through her bag. "Here we are," she said quietly, pulling the book from her bag.

Althea placed the copy of her father's book on the table and pushed the brown leather-bound book with gold lettering toward Remus. He shyly took the book in his hands and flipped through its pages. Althea bit her bottom lip out of nervousness and waited for Remus's response.

"I didn't want to believe it," she explained, watching as Remus flipped through the pages. "You hid—I mean you hide it so well," she continued and gently bit her bottom lip.

Remus closed the book. "I didn't know _this_ Daniel Morrigan was your father," he said, staring at the book.

Althea raised her eyebrow. "You've read my daddy's books?" she asked and laughed shyly. "I didn't know people actually read them."

"Yeah, all of them…so far," he said, with a tinge of embarrassment. He placed the book upon the table—it rested between them.

"See, what you are doesn't matter to me," she said, pointing to the book, "and no one else knows—believe me."

"Althea," he said, pushing the book toward her, "it matters to me. I can't be with you."

"I know—"

"Althea, I could have killed you. I _wanted_ to kill you," he said, his expression of one who longs to vomit. "I would die if I ever hurt you."

"Please don't talk like that."

"I can't help it," he whispered and sniffed. "I couldn't live if I hurt you, Althea. You deserve better."

"What do you mean 'deserve better,' Remus?" she asked, jerking her head back. "That is a terrible thing to say, Remus—look at me," she continued earnestly, gently turning his head to face her.

Remus smiled weakly.

"Any girl would be exceedingly lucky to have you as a boyfriend. Don't think that I don't notice other girls fancying you—Remus, I'm serious."

Remus shook his head. "I don't doubt that you are, Althea, but listen to me," he said, a small crease between his eyebrows. "There is someone who loves you more than I do."

"Who?"

"Never mind who, Althea, just know, all right?" replied Remus and forced a pleasant smile. "You'll meet him soon enough and forget all about me."

Althea frowned. "Right, but you can't lose me as a friend."

Remus smiled a small, genuine smile. "I wouldn't think of it." He cocked his head to the side and laughed quietly. "Is it true Sirius saved you?" he asked, the amusement palpable in his voice.

Althea threw her head back and groaned. "He's such an idiot," she murmured, staring at the ceiling. She lifted her head and answered, "He lied to Dumbledore."

Remus laughed quietly. "Of course," he murmured to himself and smoothed the hair away from his face. "He said you fainted at the sight of me—"

"Screamed, actually."

Remus nodded and flicked at the edge of the book cover. He frowned quizzically. "How did you escape?"

Althea inhaled a shaky breath. She was unsure of how she transformed, and had attempted over the Christmas Holiday but to no avail. She spent an afternoon flinging herself from her bed much to Gran's confusion. Althea licked her lips as she leaned forward. She rested the side of her face against Remus's cheek.

"Do you swear that you will never tell?" she whispered and felt Remus nod. "Don't think I'm mad, please."

"I won't."

Althea quietly exhaled. "I…transformed…into a bird," she explained barely audible. "I'd done it once before when I was eleven, and I don't know how I did it…it just happened."

"A bird?"

"A bird," she nodded.

Remus was quiet for a few moments before he asked, "Oh…you—you can't control it?"

"Unfortunately not," she whispered. "I wish I could. Could you imagine if it happened in class?"

"If it occurred in Transfiguration, we'd win the House Cup for sure," he remarked, slowly pulling away. Remus stared at his scarred hands and smiled sadly. "I wish you knew. If you knew, you could've helped us. James and Sirius want to do what—what you did, but I think Sirius just wants to be a Hungarian Horntail—"

"They're attempting to become Animagi?" she asked and wrinkled her nose. She imagined Sirius Black—fully transformed as a dragon—terrorizing the students upon the Hogwarts grounds…more specifically, terrorizing her.

"Isn't that what you are?"

"Well…no," she whispered and frowned. "At least I don't think so."

"Oh," he murmured. "They've worked on it for two years now, but it is very difficult…want to spend the full moon with me."

Althea let out a small gasp of surprise. Althea had read extensively on the subject of Animagi, and she believed that title was the closest to what she was. She read every book in the library, hoping one would give her the answer of why she was able to transform that night in Bermuda. Sadly, the books were not complete in their descriptions. According to the literature, a complex set of incantations (the number of incantations was never given) was the key to the Animagus transformation. Moreover, none of the books explained what order the incantations were said or how they were performed. She even searched Diagon Alley for books, but the Ministry of Magic regulated the books she needed. Only witches of age could receive permission to purchase those highly regulated books and then begin the process of Animagus transformation—each steps closely monitored. Over Christmas Holiday, she wrote her to father to explain that the transformation happened again and hoped her father would explain how it happened. Unfortunately, her father did not ease her mind and offered little help. His only encouragement was for her revise for her O.W.L.s. Did he not understand how important this answer was to her? What would happen if it happened again? What would happen if it happened again in the presence of students or faculty?

"Do you know how far they've gotten?"

"They've read the books in the Restricted Section and the rest of the library," he said and frowned. "They haven't had any luck."

Althea sighed with disappointment—they were no farther in their search. "Tell them not to bother looking in Diagon Alley. The books they need are restricted by the Ministry of Magic, and the Ministry won't give the books to underage wizards."

"What about your father?" he asked, pointing to the book on the table. "He wrote about them and he's one himself—I saw his name in the register. He must have the books _somewhere_…. Haven't you tried to find them?"

"I've already tried. He won't give me any answers," she responded, playing with the hem of skirt.

Remus ran his fingers through his hair. "Well this is hopeless."

Althea let the hem of her skirt fall. "No, no, it's not hopeless." Suddenly, Althea's eyes grew wide and she snapped her fingers. "McGonagall! Have they searched McGonagall's office?"

Remus shook his head. "I'd hate for it to come to that," he said and chewed his bottom lip. "They'd be expelled."

Althea sighed with mild disappointment.

"Right," he laughed, looking at her strangely. "I'm surprised at you."

"Why?"

"You, enthusiastically supporting Sirius?" he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, that," Althea shrugged.

"Yeah, _that_," he remarked, smiling. "I _clearly_ remember you telling me that ever since Sirius—my _good_ mate, mind—joined the House team, you wished a Bludger would hit his big fat head," he explained, as he placed his books and papers in his bag.

"Of course, and I still do. He flies round on his broom, thinking he's the greatest thing that ever happened to the game of Quidditch," she said, folding her arms. "What's so amazing about the ability to hit a Bludger with a bat? I bet my Gran can do it."

Remus frowned. "You know, you don't hide your jealously very well."

"Me? Jealous?" she scoffed, sitting upright. "I'm _not_ jealous. How can I be _jealous_ of such an unthinking, arrogant—"

"_Althea_," Remus admonished.

_Berk_, she finished to herself, _an unthinking, arrogant, berk_.

"Sorry," she whispered, frowning slightly. "Sometimes I forget to mind my mouth."

"That time, however, you didn't forget," he replied and winked "Maybe if you knew him like I do—"

"_Maybe_," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"You still haven't forgiven him for your hair falling out—have you?" he asked, playfully narrowing his eyes.

"No, I haven't," she said through gritted teeth, "that arrogant berk."

"Miss Morrigan, what unbecoming language," Sirius said teasingly behind her.

Althea sighed angrily and folded her arms as she roughly threw herself back in her chair.

"Where is your House loyalty?"

Althea growled.

Sirius chuckled, leaning against the bookcase. He haughtily folded his arms, a smug smile exposed his gleaming white teeth, and to himself a prime specimen of the male sex. Althea felt contempt bubbling from her chest. _Ugh, you didn't save me, you awful boy! Now you've gone and told all your friends_!

"I reckon I best go," Althea said, collecting her things.

"Oh, please don't leave on my account," Sirius said, placing his hand on his chest.

"Oh, but I must," she said and stood from the table. "Bye Remus."

"Bye," Remus replied, as Sirius sat next to him.

Althea quickly walked through the library and out into the hallway. _I'm only helping them for Remus_, she thought as she walked around the corner, _only for Remus_.


	11. Hogwarts, Halloween 1993

**Hogwarts, Halloween 1993**

Althea longingly gazed out of her office window. The red, orange, and gold colors of the sunset slowly faded as the evening approached. The students would soon return from Hogsmeade and the Halloween Feast would begin. Althea always enjoyed the Halloween Feast as a diversion from more grave thoughts that overtook her every year on that day. For the rest of the year, Althea did her best at keeping the terrible thoughts at bay, but on Halloween, the terrible thoughts were unavoidable. She looked down at the photograph in her hand—Althea was twenty-one and Prudence was only one hour old. She lovingly caressed the worn photograph as the exhausted Althea in the photograph held the sleeping baby Prudence. _I believe this photograph documents the only time you ever slept_, she thought as the baby Prudence opened and closed her mouth. _You never seemed to sleep after that_. In two days, she would be able to celebrate Prudence's birthday in almost twelve years; however, no birthday cards, birthday cakes, or birthday presents could she give Prudence. She would have to look quietly on as Prudence received those things from her parents at breakfast.

"Are you busy?" she heard the calm voice of Remus ask.

Althea turned in her chair toward the direction of the door. "No, no. Come in," she said and placed the photograph on her desk. "I was just thinking," she explained, rubbing the side of her face as Remus pulled a chair next to her and sat down.

"Looking at the photograph, again?" he asked, pointing to the photograph on the desk.

"Yeah," she sighed and handed him the photograph. "This year will be particularly brutal, I think."

Remus carefully examined the photograph. "She was so small," he murmured, stroking the photograph. "I remember how tiny her hands were," he continued with a small smile. "She had such a strong grip, though…always seemed to use that grip on my robes," he said, still staring at the photograph.

"Or my hair," she replied, smiling weakly. "I learned quickly to have my hair tied when nursing her."

Remus laughed softly. "You know, her nose has stopped whistling," he remarked, looking from the photograph to Althea.

"I can't believe you remember that her nose would whistle," she replied, looking from him to the photograph in his hand.

"Well, we did have the habit of calling her 'kazoo,'" he replied, smiling. He returned to looking at the photograph and frowned. "Do you still question Dumbledore's advice?" he asked, not looking from the photograph.

"Always."

The thought that she actually followed Dumbledore's advice and gave Prudence up for adoption caused her stomach to contract, sending small pains outward into her abdomen.

"But I also question why I followed it," she continued, rubbing her forehead. "I should've done what my father did." Out of her periphery, she caught sight of her father's photograph: no more than thirty, he smiled pleasantly with his arms folded as he proudly leaned against the door of his 1955 Jaguar drop head. "After mum died, I never saw England until I was eleven. I was happy…dad and me…but it caught up to him." Althea sighed. "It would've caught up to me," she said and shrugged. "To us."

Remus sighed and placed the photograph on her desk. "Do you think it could have worked—what we proposed?" he asked, leaning forward.

"What?" she asked, taking the photograph in her hand.

Remus swallowed. "You and I—"

"Oh, oh, right," she murmured and gently bit her bottom lip.

For a moment, Althea felt awkward and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It was the first time they had discussed the proposal since the month after Prudence's birth. She often speculated what it would have been like if Dumbledore agreed with their alternate solution: to live with Remus and to have him raise Prudence as his own. Althea was desperate to keep her daughter and Remus felt enormous guilt. Prudence would never know the truth and they could spend the rest of their lives as a normal, happy family—well, as normal as a family could live in having a werewolf as a stepfather. And, with time, maybe their feelings of friendship would transform into something more. However, Dumbledore was adamantly against the proposal and persuaded Althea to give up Prudence to the Muggle Parker couple. The Parkers were a childless couple in their early thirties that desperately wanted a child and Prudence would be safe with the Parkers. _I often wonder how different my life would have been if I had kept her_, she thought, frowning. _I should have fought more…but what could I do? She was in danger, and now she is not—she is safe…safe and happy_.

"Maybe—maybe what happened afterwards wouldn't have happened," she replied, folding her arms. "When I lost her…I lost everything."

"I should've done more—"

Althea shrugged. "You were just as bad off," she said, studying Remus.

Remus solemnly stared at his folded hands.

"Enough," she sighed. "How is Prudence fairing in your class, Hogwarts' favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor?"

"She's a very eager girl and is doing well," he explained and took a deep breath.

"But?"

"Althea, she's so much like you—it's unnerving sometimes. Everything about her reminds me of you—the way she carries herself, the way she talks—I almost called her, 'Althea,' in class one day," he explained and shook his head. "She even bites her bottom lip like you do when you're anxious."

Althea smiled sadly. "I hope that Professor Binns doesn't decide to start calling her, 'Miss Morrigan,' in class," she said, gently stroking his forearm. "Let's just pray she doesn't have any of her father in her."

A heartbreaking expression developed on Remus's face as he looked at Althea. "She has his laugh, you know," he said quietly and rubbed his hands together.

"His laugh?"

Remus nodded. "Snape's beginning to suspect."

"How? How could he suspect? No one knows about Prudence—_no one_," she said, sitting forward, the dread shaping inside her.

Remus cleared his throat. "This morning, as I walked the corridor, Snape was walking in front of Prudence and her friends. Her friend whispered something to Prudence and she laughed. He stopped—stumbled, actually—almost laughed myself, until I saw his face," he explained, his brow furrowed.

Althea's throat constricted. "He didn't do anything to her?"

Remus shook his head.

"Good," she managed to say, placing her hand upon his forearm. "Has he said anything to you?"

"No, I think he's afraid of what you'd do to him," he replied, smiling weakly.

Althea removed her hand from Remus's forearm and clenched her hands into two tight fists. "As well he should be afraid. If he even threatens her—"

"Althea, it will be all right," he said, placing his hands on top of her fists. "I believe he enjoys living at this moment."

Slowly, Althea relaxed her hands. "Right," she murmured. "Anyway, did you take your potion?"

"Yes, I did," he replied, rubbing his chin.

"Awful stuff," she said, reclining into her chair.

"Indeed," he nodded. "By the way, I spoke with Harry this morning."

Althea sat up in her chair. "Does he know about you—Harry, I mean?"

A small smile emerged across Remus's face. "No, no…but he thought that Snape was attempting to poison me," he explained, amused. "Snape brought the potion while Harry was in my office."

"I wouldn't be surprised though. He dreadfully wants the Dark Arts position," she teased and winked. "But if he _was_ going to poison anybody, it would have been Lockhart."

"I'll keep that in mind," he remarked and turned his attention toward the window.

Althea looked toward the window. The sun had set and the stars brightened in the sky. In a few minutes, the Halloween Feast would begin.

"I don't think you have to worry. Dumbledore knows to keep him in a dungeon."

Remus pulled a face. "Still smells like pickled Erkling."

Althea laughed lowly. "Would he ever smell differently?"

Remus screwed up his eyes in thought and shook his head.

"Exactly."

"We best leave for the Feast," Remus said, standing. "I've been looking forward to the massive amounts of sweets all day."

Althea stood as well. "I knew you would; however, I will make sure you do eat _something_ other than sweets, as well," she replied, smoothing out her robes.

"Damn," he murmured as they walked toward her door.

"Right, later tonight you'll complain of an upset stomach and wonder _how_ it could have happened," she remarked, leaning against the door. "I'll have to listen to you whinge for hours."

"Hours? Likely."

"Anyway, are you sure we should arrive together? Snape might become suspicious."

Over the past month, Snape had increased his comments to Althea and Remus, insinuating some relationship other than friendship between them existed. Althea noticed that the comments did not bother Remus; he was not the type to anger quickly, and she even wondered if he paid attention. However, the comments bothered her. Since Althea's start at Hogwarts six years ago, Snape's malicious comments assaulted her on a constant, daily basis. She could tolerate most of Snape's assaults—questioning her abilities as a teacher, reinvigorating old rumors about her alleged promiscuity, but the assaults she could not tolerate were on those she loved. Althea had vowed to Lily that she would look after Harry—but what a wonderful job she had done! Snape knew there was no possibility of Althea revealing herself to Harry, and fanatically spewed his caustic remarks at Harry—sometimes, almost gleefully. He especially seemed to delight in implying that somehow Althea was involved in James and Lily's deaths.

"Let him get suspicious," he replied and winked. "It might keep him occupied enough that he forgets to ridicule his students," he added and held the door open for Althea.

* * *

Althea's mood lifted as the students eagerly entered the Great Hall and sat for the feast. Althea sat next to Remus, who was in a lively conversation with Professor Flitwick. Professor Flitwick was very interested in Remus's travels, and even mentioned Althea's travels to the Congo, at which Althea coughed as she drank her pumpkin juice—Remus casting her a knowing look. _If Flitwick only knew where I truly was_, she thought, resting her goblet on the table. _He wouldn't be so apt to tell_. Her stomach full, she drowsily leaned back in her chair and enjoyed the festivities.

When the festivities ended, she was relieved—she would be able to mark more essays before Remus visited her later that night to look over her father's manuscripts. Seventeen years after his death, it still was a tiresome process to sort through her father's manuscripts, but she had found some that Remus could possibly benefit from—his original notes on werewolves.

"Althea, are you returning to your quarters?" Remus whispered in her ear.

Remus's warm breath jolted her from her drowsy state. "No, not yet. I have work in my office. I left some essays to read," Althea replied quietly. "I bloody hate marking essays."

"You never were much for essays when you were a student," he replied, smiling, "and I won't have an upset stomach when I visit you later. I ate other things besides sweets."

"I saw," she replied and winked. "Will you return to your office?"

"Oh no, I've finished."

"Lucky you."

Remus laughed quietly. "Indeed," he said and smiled. "I don't fall asleep as easily as you."

Althea frowned at him.

Remus stood. "I think I will return to my quarters," he answered and tenderly squeezed her shoulder.

Althea mockingly gasped. "Snape saw that. He's convinced we're about to have a snogging session on the Head Table."

"Did he?" Remus asked and looked in the direction of Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the couple.

"Such the dirty mind," he replied and clicked his teeth. "So, I'll see you later, then?" he added as Althea stood. "I'm looking forward to reading your father's manuscripts."

"I thought you would," she replied, smiling, as they walked toward the entrance to the Great Hall.

"I especially enjoy the side notes on his daughter," he replied as they slowed to let some students pass.

"I thought you would," she replied and smiled as more students passed. "I should let you read the journal entries where he writes about you."

"Me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing shocking," she replied with a small smile as they neared the door. "Only that you're a prefect and that he wished your good behavior rubbed off onto me."

"Oh, I think I could be worse than you," he replied as they entered the corridor outside the Great Hall.

"Right, you learned quickly how to look innocent and not get caught," she explained, smiling faintly. "I never mastered that talent."

"Not many do," he replied, smiling as well. "You best start marking those essays."

"Right," she sighed. "Later then."

"Right, cheer up. I'll rescue you from those essays eventually," he replied and winked. "Before you're asleep."

Althea sighed sadly and walked the lonely corridor back to her office. As she opened her door, the subtle smell of orange jasmine filled her delicate nostrils. The spicy and floral smell reminded her of the Morrigan family home in Bermuda her father had willed to her. She even incorporated a few items from his office—the leather couch rested underneath the window next to her desk, and various Muggle artifacts—masks, paintings, and carvings—hung on the grey walls. Behind her desk was her bookcase; its shelves filled with books, ancient Muggle vases and statues, and pictures of her mother and father. As she stood over her desk and carefully rolled the students papers, she heard the sound of footsteps growing louder until they stopped at her door. Althea turned quickly as her office door flew open.

"Sirius!" Remus said, out of breath—his lips white.

Althea let the rolled parchments slip from her fingers—the students' essays fell and scattered across the floor. She did not move from her desk and did not bother to pick up the fallen papers. _He's here? This can't be happening_, she thought, blinking as she looked at Remus. Remus pale, heaved great breathes as he beckoned for Althea to follow him. Althea's body refused to move.

"_Althea_—"

"Sirius—what—he's—he's here?"

"There's no time," he said urgently, breathing heavily. "We have to look for him."

It felt as if her blood drained from face to her neck, to her torso, down to her feet. She could not move or speak. Her mind screamed at her that she had to go with Remus to find Sirius, but her body would not budge. She was afraid—afraid for Harry, Prudence, and herself. How would she handle seeing Sirius? _Move, you stupid girl, and go help Remus find him! Move your bloody feet_, she thought, but her body refused to move.

"Althea—Althea we need to search the castle!" Remus demanded, taking her limp hand.

She nodded her head and Remus pulled her out of her office. Althea slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. _You can do it_, she thought, tightly holding her wand in her shaking hand. _You can stun him—kill him if you need to, but do something! Punch him in the face! It might feel better than blasting him across the hallway_. She nervously held her wand before her as they crept along the darkened corridor. _Sirius could be lurking anywhere_, she thought as she quickly stopped to look behind her. _He's mad now…he's not your Sirius. You have to hurt him before he hurts you. You have to, no matter what he says—wait, don't give him that opportunity to speak. He won't give you that luxury…he wanted you dead_.

"Where—where was he spotted?" she asked quietly, gaining some her confidence back.

Remus eyed the hallway shadows warily. "He slashed the Fat Lady's portrait."

Althea gasped.

"He was attempting to get in," he whispered as he continued to search the corridor with his eyes. "Into Gryffindor—"

"What about the students? Prudence—"

"They're safe," he said softly. "I wouldn't let anything happen to Prudence and Harry."

"I know," she replied and squeezed Remus's hand. "I'll kill him."

"We both will."

Althea and Remus continued to search the floor, but found no trace of Sirius. Althea felt a small amount of relief—for now, the children were safe, but the unsettling thought remained that he would return. She waited outside the Great Hall as Remus informed Dumbledore that they did not find Sirius.

"How unsettling that Black managed to enter the castle," Snape said over her shoulder.

Althea took a small jump forward. "Yes—yes it is," she replied shakily as she turned to face Snape.

"I wonder _how_ he managed it," Snape said, his eyes narrowing.

Althea folded her arms. "So do _I_, Snape," she replied defensively.

She knew immediately what he was implying. The mere notion that she could have let Sirius into Hogwarts sickened her. _Why would I invite him into Hogwarts_, she thought angrily, her jaw tightening. _Why would I invite the man that wanted Prudence and me dead into Hogwarts_?

Snape focused his black eyes on Althea. "What a _coincidence_ he chose tonight to break in," he commented, his upper lip curving into an awful sneer. "Lucky, the _children_ were safe in the Great Hall."

Althea's heart stopped for a moment—Snape knew about Prudence. The way he coldly emphasized children tore at her heart. Snape cruelly smiled—his yellow, uneven teeth revealed—nauseating her.

Before Althea could respond, Remus returned. "Oh hello, Severus," Remus said calmly. "Anything on the third floor?"

"No," Snape replied sharply. "If you'll excuse me, I must speak with the Headmaster."

"Well then, goodnight, Severus," Remus responded and nodded his head.

Snape, however, did not respond and quickly walked inside the Great Hall—his long black cloak billowing behind him. Althea uneasily rubbed her upper arms as Remus stood beside her.

"He knows, Remus," she replied quietly and her body began to shake. Remus placed his hand on her back. "I heard it in his voice. He knows about Prudence," she added and stared at the floor.

"Come on," Remus spoke softly, "let's get you back to your quarters. I'll make you some tea."

Althea nodded as he put his arm around her shoulders and helped her back to her quarters.


	12. Hogwarts, Early February 1976

**Hogwarts, Early February 1976**

After breakfast, Althea hurriedly ran back to Gryffindor Tower to open the package from her father. Carefully unwrapping the brown packaging, a small note slipped out onto the floor. Althea gently picked up the letter and read it:

_My Darling Althea: _

_I hope everything finds you well in Hogwarts. Are you diligently studying for your O.W.L.'s? Of course, I really didn't have to ask for I know you are, and I expect nothing less than O's and maybe an E or two from you. Romania is a beautiful country, and someday I hope you will be able to visit. My work is intensive, but I believe I might be able to get away for the Easter Holiday. I so wish to see you. I felt I haven't been much of a father this school year. You're growing up so fast, and I don't want to miss any more moments of it. I can't express how proud I am of you. _

_Here is a little gift for you, Sweetheart. It's one of my old travel journals. I hope you find it interesting and use the information wisely. I believe it might contain what you are looking for, and I cannot express enough to use it responsibly. I am very sorry I kept the information from you for so long, but in time, you will see that I had to. I wasn't prepare d when you were eleven. I was barely prepared to send you away to Hogwarts. I hope you understand and forgive me. I thought it was a random event, but indeed, I was mistaken as you transformed once more. _

_I think of you often, and your picture smiles and winks at me as I write. You look so much like your mother, and as you will probably groan, like your Gran._

_Sweetheart, I miss you dreadfully and I will write you again soon. I love you very, very, very much._

_Love, _

_Daddy_

Althea eagerly unwrapped the brown packaging surrounding the journal, and tenderly caressed the worn leather cover before opening to discover its contents. Slowly, she opened the old travel journal toward the middle, and the first date she saw was her fifth birthday—_August 15, 1965_. Then looking at the location, she had forgotten she had spent her fifth birthday with her father in the Carpathian Mountains. Althea placed the journal on her lap, and lifted her sleeve to examine her wrist. On the inside of her wrist, was a small tattoo of a bird she had received around that time. _Maybe this will explain where I got this thing_, she thought as she began to read her father's journal. Maybe this will explain everything.

_August 15, 1965_

_Themiskyra, somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains_

_The Otrera Nation, to most wizards, was left to those things of myth and legend. Hunted by Muggles and ostracized magic, the Otrera disappeared into the Carpathian Mountains. Legend says the Otrera Nation consisted of twelve clans whose names are lost to time; however, I believe I have discovered them—well, a few of them. Organized in loosely affiliated villages, of the twelve clans, only the Cartimandua and the Thyra are left. After Althea's mother died earlier this year, I decided to search out the legendary Otrera Nation. The Otrera were known for magical spells of protection, and I would do anything to protect my little Althea…._

Althea raised an eyebrow. Her father was an eccentric—a bohemian—and when it was in vogue to find oneself, he thought nothing of taking his small daughter along and Althea spent most of 1967 in an ashram. She remembered all of her trips, but she could not remember this journey into the Carpathian Mountains. How could she have forgotten?

_We searched for two months, and finally, it was Althea that spotted it. I, of course, could not as the Otrera cast spells against men finding the villages. We happened upon the village of Themiskyra—the village of the clan Thyra. I still could not see the village, until Miriam, the shamaness of the village lifted the spells for me. Miriam informed us that only the Cartimandua and the Thyra were left. The other clans had succumbed to war, assimilation, or disease over one thousand years ago. The village of Themiskyra consisted of both Muggles and magic, and lived quite harmoniously—much to the displeasure of the Cartimandua. The Cartimandua did not believe in the acceptance of Muggles into the Otrera for Muggles hunted them and sought their subjugation. Over three hundred years ago, the two clans split the Otrera Nation over this issue. So sad, much like what the rest of the Wizarding world is experiencing. _

_The Thyra practice a strange and fascinating form of magic without the use of wands. Miriam explained that the wand was created by males for males. However, I found that for certain practices, the wand was still used, but with great reluctance. All Thyra are Animagi. I couldn't believe my eyes! I couldn't believe Muggles could transform as well! This, I discovered, was the secret to their protection. Miriam informed me that infant girls have this practice performed on them, and only when they are older is the full practice performed—a rite of passage. In goodwill, I decided that Althea should have this done, and the full practice would be performed later—if not ever. I really don't think she will need this, but Marie encouraged it just to be safe. The process was simple—unlike my Animagus preparation! It took me five arduous years of intense study under the Ministry's tedious guidelines, and it took them only a week! However, at the completion, Althea had a tattoo of a raven—the symbol of the Thyra upon her wrist—as a gesture of goodwill. _

_Marie encouraged that I write down the ingredients and methods performed. However, I feel that it is unnecessary, but Marie insisted…._

Althea stopped reading. Why would her father send her this now? She had asked him earlier in the school year, but he refused. What brought about the sudden change? Her father had lied to an eleven-year-old Althea about her transformation—describing it as some genetic fluke that never existed. Animagi could not be born, they were made, and every one knew—well, except for an eleven-year-old girl who had no idea that she was a witch. A girl that believed everything her father told her. Her father was acting strange and his letter seemed odd to Althea. Did he know something Althea did not? The Thyra used the tattoo for protection, but what would Althea need to be protected from?

Althea frantically scanned the rest of her father's writing looking for the ingredients. Finally, after the third page, she found the ingredients for Animagi transformations. It was a simple potion—not the complex spells and difficult incantations of the Ministry method. All she needed to do was brew the potion and she could transform at will. Althea's heart skipped and she felt light-headed as she excitedly read the ingredients:

_Ingredients in Animagus Transfiguration:_

_Three stems of butterfly weed_

_The bark of the silver fir_

_The leaf of the Datura stramonium_

_The bud of a henbane_

_The ripe berry from the belladonna_

_A pig heart_

_The hair from the tail of a werewolf..._

Althea let out a snort of laughter. "That will be bloody easy to obtain," she murmured.

_Crushed boar molar_

_Three eggs of the Ashwinder_

_A raven's feather_

_One bottle of red wine_

_At the new moon, in a cauldron, pour in one bottle of red wine. As the wine warms, crush together the three stems of butterfly weed and the bark of the silver fir. Then, add them to the cauldron. Carefully, at thirty-minute intervals, add the leaf of the Datura stramonium, the bud of a henbane, and the ripe berry from belladonna. Be watchful not to breathe the fumes, as they are toxic. Let the potion simmer for one week; using the raven feather stir clockwise once, twice a day. At the end of the week, cut the pig heart into quarters and add it to the cauldron. Next, at hour intervals, add three eggs from the Ashwinder and stir once, clockwise with the raven feather after each egg is added. One hour after the last egg is added, add the crushed boar molar but do not stir—it should coat the surface of the blood red potion. Carefully, drop the single tail hair of a werewolf into the cauldron. At this moment, a large blue plume of smoke will erupt from the cauldron and the potion will be a lovely shade of indigo. Lastly, gently anticlockwise stir the potion once with the raven feather and drop the feather in the cauldron. Wait thirty minutes. _

_At the end of the settling time, carefully pour a ladleful into a silver cup. Add the essence of the animal one wishes to transform to—the potion in the cup will turn black. However, it is not necessary to add the essence, as one would just take on the characteristics of one's Patronus. Carefully, dip the tip of one's wand into the cup, covering the end. With the covered tip, trace a symbol on a part of one's body—a permanent mark will develop. Lastly, drink the potion. The drinking of the potion is the crucial step. This allows the Animagus to transform at will; however, if one does not drink the potion, the bearer of the mark will only be allowed to transform at times of dire emotional stress…._

Althea placed a bookmark in the journal and hurriedly left her dormitory room. She had to find Remus and show him her father's journal. She ran down the steps and entered the common room. Peter and James were sitting by the fire as James tried to construct new Quidditch plays.

"Potter," she said, almost out of breath. "Where's Remus?"

"He's upstairs," James said suspiciously and raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks," she replied briskly.

"But—"

Without hearing James's reply, she ran up the stairs that led to the boys' dormitory. She easily climbed the many stairs, and without knocking, opened the door that led to the fifth year dormitory. Suddenly, Althea ran into something large and wet and fell to the floor—her father's journal flying out of her hand and landing a few feet away from her. Althea blinked and shook her head—slightly disoriented. Smoothing her long black hair from her face, she gasped at what she had landed on top of—Sirius. _Oh, good God_, Althea thought to herself as she rolled off him. _Oh, good God_.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Sirius yelled—his face a slight shade of pink.

"I'm so, so sorry," she mumbled, very embarrassed, covering her eyes and looking away. "Oh God, I should just—"Althea bit her lip to cover her snickering, but it was hopeless.

"This isn't bloody funny."

"I—I'm sorry," she stuttered, attempting to stifle her laughter. She quickly glanced in his direction and glanced back to her skirt—her laughter increasing in volume.

"You should be," he said curtly, tightening his towel. "Barging in like that. Shameful, absolutely shameful."

Althea, covering her face to avoid looking at Sirius, crawled along the floor and picked up her father's journal. "I was looking for Remus," she explained, looking at the cover of her father's journal. "Potter said he was up here."

"_Did_ he? Well, Remus isn't here. He hasn't been here _all_ morning," he replied suspiciously. "James should have known that."

Althea cleared her throat. "He was coming up with new Quidditch plays when I asked him," she explained, her fingers fumbling with the bookmark tassel. "I—I should go."

"_Of course_, he was," he replied, folding his arms. "Yes, go. D'you think I'd invite you to stay?"

Althea opened her mouth and pointed her finger at Sirius. "Are you implying that I—I—" she stopped speaking and growled.

Sirius took a moment to think. "Yes, I suppose I am," he replied with a smirk.

"As if I'd want to see you—you—" she remarked—her face hot—tightening her grip on her father's journal.

"You're still here," he laughed, his smirk transforming into a smug smile.

Althea gritted her teeth—how she loathed him! "You are the most conceited, unbearable, smarmy git I've ever met!" she yelled and forcefully threw the book at Sirius's head. Sirius was taken by surprise as the book connected with the side of his head.

"Bloody hell! Why the bloody hell do you have to be so bloody violent?" he replied gruffly, rubbing the side of his head. "No wonder Moony broke up with you—you're bloody mental."

"That's it!" she yelled and lunged at a shocked Sirius.

The two interlocked their fingers and each pushed back and forth—growling as they fought.

"You—are—so—touched—in—the—head!" he managed to say and arched his back.

Sirius pushed with all of his might and Althea fell backward. Althea winced as she hit her head against the floor and gasped as Sirius rolled on top of her—knocking her hands loose from him. He grabbed Althea's wrists and held her arms above her head. For a moment, Althea stared contemptuously at Sirius, attempting to catch her breath.

"Get off me!" she growled, struggling underneath him.

He held her wrists tighter and rested his knees against her thighs—holding her down. "No, you're going to listen to me!" he growled back and leaned close to her face. "You are the most self-righteous, self-centered, and spoiled brat I've ever met."

"Ha! I think that's a more accurate description of you," she scoffed, breathing heavily. "Except you have no morals."

Sirius shook his head—the droplets of water splashing onto Althea's face—and bit the inside of his cheek. "I have tried to be nice to you," he said and Althea turned her head away from him.

"Really?" she muttered. "I'd never have guessed."

"But it's nearly bloody impossible because—"

"I hope this isn't your idea of foreplay," James remarked from the door. "It's scary."

Althea and Sirius glared at James in unison.

"I can see that you both don't want to be disturbed, so I'll leave," he said casually, pointing at the door. "Hey mate, about how long will you need?"

Enraged, Althea pushed Sirius off her, grabbed her father's journal, and furiously flung it at James. Unfortunately, James's reflexes were sharper than Sirius's and he caught it with ease. Althea stood and walked toward James.

"What's this?" he asked as he examined the journal.

"Give it back," Althea demanded and held out her hand.

"Don't do it, mate," Sirius warned, still sitting on the floor.

"Shut it!" she shouted as she turned her head in Sirius' direction—Sirius stuck out his tongue. Althea reached in her pocket for her wand. "_Petrificus lingua_," she said, pointing her wand at Sirius' stuck out tongue. Sirius's tongue froze—much to the horror of Sirius and much to the delight of Althea.

"What did you do?" James shouted, pointing to Sirius. Sirius, panicked, hysterically attempted to speak, but he only produced muffled sounds and loud grunts.

"Give it back," she pleaded as she turned back toward James.

"No," he said mildly. "I think I'll keep it."

"It's my book."

"But you threw it at my head."

"I want my book back," she said through gritted teeth.

"You cursed my best friend," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Here," she said and muttered the counter curse.

Sirius loudly smacked his lips together.

"I took the curse off Black," she said and held out her hand. "Could I have the book, please?"

James rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. "No," he replied and ran out the door.

"James Potter, give me that book back!" Althea shouted as she chased after him.

Althea slid to a stop as she thought she heard Sirius Black laughing. She narrowed her eyes and stopped at the door to the fifth-year dormitory.

Pointing her wand around the corner of the door she whispered, "_Accio_ towel!"

The towel flew into her hand and she laughed as she heard Sirius scream. _He deserved it_, she thought to herself as she ran down the corridor. _I hope he doesn't find me though—I'd hate to know the hex he'd put on me_.

Althea chased James through the corridors and down the many flights of stairs, screaming after him to give her back her father's journal over James's teasing chants about Althea secretly fancying Sirius. She tried to stop him with her wand, but James was very hard to strike as he continued to swerve and duck as he ran. He seemed to know shortcuts and passages that Althea never knew existed—how large exactly was Hogwarts? However, Althea was catching up and as soon as she would round the corner, she would have him.

"Where—where did he go?" she asked, puzzled, as she looked around the empty corridor. "Damn it!" she shouted and stomped her foot.

Suddenly, Althea felt an arm grab her around the chest and pull her back. Althea attempted to scream, but another hand was put over her mouth. She tried to struggle and wiggle free, but the person held her tighter.

"Don't struggle. Drop the towel and drop the wand," Sirius whispered as he held her close to him.

James reappeared from behind a painting. Althea frantically pleaded with her eyes for him to help her. "Sorry, Morrigan, but this _is_ necessary," James said, as he magically bound her hands and feet and put a gag in her mouth.

Sirius threw her over his shoulder and started to walk toward the staircase. Althea was scared—what would they do to her? She pleaded by muffled sounds to Peter to help her, but he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Where are you taking her?" James asked eagerly.

"The prefects' bathroom—she has a fondness for bathing," Sirius said and cruelly laughed. "No one will hear her scream there."

Althea tried to scream through her gag and wiggled to try to get him to drop her from his shoulder; however, Sirius tightened his grip around her waist.

"Are—are you sure we should be doing this?" Peter asked nervously.

Sirius turned around to face Peter. Althea was able to make eye contact with James—she scowled at him and he smiled back.

"What, are you afraid we'll get expelled?" Sirius teased and turned back around. "Come on, we're almost there. Ah, Lemon Scent," he added and the door opened. "Welcome to the prefects' bathroom, Morrigan, a place you've never been, I'm very certain."

The four entered the empty prefects' bathroom, and Althea heard James turn on the tap. _They're going to drown me_, she thought as Sirius twirled around in an attempt to dizzy her. _Sirius is that cruel to do it_. Sirius dropped her on the floor and knelt beside her.

"It's no use to scream, no one can hear you," he said as he removed her gag.

Althea looked to James and Peter. Both stood at Sirius' sides with their arms folded—she knew they would be of no help. _They'd let him drown me_, she thought, looking from Peter to James. _Potter would drown his own Seeker_. She remained quiet, as she did not want Sirius to sense her fear. Instead, she decided to look him defiantly in the eye.

"Morrigan, you've been a _very_ naughty girl," Sirius whispered silkily in her ear. "What would McGonagall say? Hmm? Lurking about our dormitory to spy us _naked_?"

Althea did not respond and continued to look ahead of her.

"I'm sorry that I have to do this," he said, tugging at one of her curls. "You need to learn your lesson."

Sirius lifted her up onto his shoulder and stood up. _So, he'll throw me into the bath_, she thought as he walked to the edge. _At least they had the courtesy not to make it soapy_. Sirius lifted her off his shoulder, threw her into the water, and Althea yelped as she contacted the cold water. The cold water shocked her body as she hit the bottom of the bath and floated underwater. Holding her breath, she looked at her wrists and ankles, and attempted to struggle free, but the restraints were too strong. She looked up through the water to see the blurry figures of the three boys standing at the edge of the bath. She saw a blurry Sirius throw his head back in laughter—his muffled bark-like laughter echoing in her ears.

She decided to play a small trick on Sirius. If he was cruel enough to throw her into a large pool of ice-cold water, she was cruel enough to pretend she had drowned. She wanted to show him that his actions could have terrible consequences—even deadly ones. Slowly, her body rose and she limply bobbed at the surface. She could hear the muffled sound of Sirius shouting her name, but she remained limp. Suddenly, a gigantic splash drifted her sideways and she felt two arms wrap around her waist.

"Help me get her out of here!" Sirius shouted and James grabbed Althea's arms as they pulled her out of the water.

When Sirius was not paying attention, Althea had taken a quick breath so she could pretend she was not breathing. James laid Althea on the ground and knelt next to her.

"Is she?" Peter asked timidly.

"No!" Sirius shouted, taking her into his arms.

"She's not breathing, mate. You just killed our Seeker," James said and she felt the bindings removed from her wrists and ankles.

Althea let her hands go limp at her sides. She would pretend to be unconscious just long enough for Sirius to become scared. When he became scared, she would wake up in a fit of laughter. She would play the ultimate prank on him. _He deserves it_, she thought, as Sirius held her tighter.

"She'll be okay," Sirius said shakily and stroked the side of her face. "Morrigan, wake up," he demanded uneasily.

"Mate, she's not—"

"Shut it! Come on, Morrigan, wake up," Sirius said as he continued to stroke her face.

Althea should have woken up, and should have laughed at Sirius, but she could not—she felt guilty. As Sirius held her close to him, she actually thought she heard him sniff back tears. The recklessness at which they approached each other had to end. She would pretend as if he had saved her life and she hoped the feud between them would be over. Sirius tilted her head back, opened her mouth, placed his mouth onto hers, and slowly blew air into her mouth. Althea opened her eyes, took a deep breath of air, and pretended to cough. Sirius pulled her to his chest and held her tightly against him.

"Peter, go get some clothes for us. James, could you get some tea?" Sirius asked, still holding Althea tightly. "Are you all right?" he asked softly to her.

"Yeah," she murmured and began to shiver.

"Are you sure?" he whispered and Althea thought he kissed the top of her wet head. "I just wanted—I didn't mean to—"

"It—it's all right. I must have hit my head on the bottom," she replied, growing accustomed to the feel of Sirius.

Sirius attempted to cover her with part of his wet robes. "You're very cold," he replied and gently rubbed her back. "Peter will be here soon…. Come on, Peter."

Althea gradually pulled away from Sirius. "Why would you do this?"

Sirius shrugged. "A joke, but I didn't think—"

"Of course, you didn't," she said and sniffed.

"Morrigan, I'm sorry."

Althea caught her breath. The three words she never thought she would hear from Sirius.

"I wanted—I don't know what I wanted, actually," he said, frowning.

"This has to stop between us," she said, pulling her knees to her chest. "I rather like being alive."

"You're shivering…here," he said and pulled her closer to him. Althea's eyes widened slightly.

"I—I'm sorry about before," she said, staring ahead of her. "I should've knocked."

"I should've locked the door," he replied, stroking wet strands of hair away from her face.

The nape of Althea's neck prickled with warmth. "Really, I shouldn't have hit you with the book," she replied awkwardly, looking at her soggy skirt. "I shouldn't—"

"I shouldn't have said those things to you—"

The prefects' bathroom door opened, and Peter, breathing heavily, entered with an armful of clothes.

"Here…I have clothes. I—I couldn't find…a girl though, but—but I brought some…of your clothes, Sirius," Peter said—out of breath—holding out two folded sweaters and two folded pairs of trousers.

"You didn't want to talk to a girl," Sirius muttered, roughly taking the clothes from Peter.

Peter frowned slightly.

"Here, put these on," he added as he handed her a navy sweater and grey trousers.

"Oh, no—really—I couldn't," she replied, attempting to hand him back his clothes. "I'll wear these," she added, pointing to her clothes. "A Drying Spell—"

"No, that won't work," he interrupted, refusing to take back his clothes.

"What if someone sees me wearing your clothes?" she asked, uneasily holding his clothes in her hands. "Really, a Drying Spell—"

"So, it's another rumor," he replied and nodded toward a curtain. "You can change behind there."

Althea went behind a curtain and immediately removed her heavy, sopping wet clothes. She was uncomfortable slipping into Sirius's clothes. What would the rest of the school think? Althea slipped the navy sweater over her head and noticed that the sweater smelled like Sirius. She brought the soft wool collar to her nose and inhaled deeply the warm, sensual smell that made Althea's neck tingle. All of a sudden, Althea realized what she was doing and stopped—a queasy sensation developing in her stomach. She actually liked the smell of Sirius. She pulled the trousers up to her waist, fastened them, and rolled the trouser legs—Sirius and Althea were both tall, but Sirius was at least two inches taller.

Althea shyly walked from behind the curtain, took a cup of tea from James, and timidly sat on a bench next to Sirius. She greedily drank the warm tea, and relaxed as the warmth of the liquid coursed through her body. James and Peter set about drying their clothes as Althea and Sirius sat upon the bench quietly drinking their tea. Why was she acting this way? She was never timid or awkward around Sirius before tonight. Maybe there was something new between them. Maybe this was what life was like when not at Sirius' throat. It was new and intimidating. _What have I done_, she thought, kicking her naked heel against the floor.

* * *

"I—I really don't think this is necessary," Althea stuttered as Sirius scooped her up in his arms. "I'm really heavy."

"You're not heavy at all. Just put your arms around my neck," Sirius replied, nodding for her to do so. "Come on."

Althea shyly wrapped her arms around his neck, and to her amazement, Sirius carried her up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and to the Fat Lady's portrait. She insisted on him letting her walk into Gryffindor Tower, and thankfully, he accepted because a large group of Gryffindors sat in the common room. Sirius and Althea entered first, amid stares and nudges from fellow Gryffindors. The eyes and whispers pierced Althea's skin as she walked toward the girls' dormitory. Everyone knew, or at least knew of what could have happened. Althea slowly ascended the staircase to her dormitory, where she found Lily sitting at the edge of Althea's bed.

"Hi," Althea said quietly as she shut the door.

Lily did not respond, but sat quietly at the edge of Althea's bed.

_Oh, dear_, she thought as she walked forward. _She knows of something_. Althea took in a deep gulp of air. She might have survived Sirius, but Althea was not sure she could survive Lily. Lily was a prefect, and Althea constantly put her in an unwelcome position with every confrontation she had with Sirius. _I honestly don't mean to put her in this position_, she thought as she sat next to Lily. _It just happens_. Althea waited for Lily to speak, and it did not take long.

"Althea, is it—is it _true_?" Lily asked, the tears forming in her eyes. "I know you've done some right stupid things, and this had witnesses…_credible, shocked_ witnesses."

Althea was confused and furrowed her eyebrows. "What—what's true?" she asked and placed her hands on Lily's shoulders.

"You and Black," she whispered, insinuating as she nodded her head to the side. "That you and Black were…_you know_," she insinuated, lifting her eyebrows.

"Me and Black?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Lily answered, wincing slightly. "I've learned to be never surprised by what you do, but it was so difficult for me to defend you this time…. He was on top of you, naked."

Althea's mouth dropped open from shock. "Oh, _me and Black_."

It felt as if the blood from Althea's face had drained down to her feet. _Everybody thinks that Black and I had—had—sex_, she thought, and ran her fingers through her wet hair. How would she ever overcome this rumor? Someone other than James must have observed them arguing in the fifth-year dormitory, and mistook it as something more. Althea had to suppress her laughter—how could someone have mistaken that for anything but an argument?

Althea stared into Lily's emerald eyes. "Lily, Black and I…we didn't, Lily," she said, attempting to reassure her friend. "I wouldn't—I wouldn't do _that_," she said, shyly tucking a curl behind her ear. "Why would you even think?"

Lily shrugged. "I thought he'd given you a Love Potion or something—"

Althea laughed nervously. "No, we were rowing…as usual."

"This is a first—Black, naked, rowing with you," Lily remarked, a smile emerging across her face.

"He wasn't naked," she said, her lips quivering into a small smile. "He did have a towel."

"It improves it slightly," Lily replied and winked. "You've gotten farther than most girls in Hogwarts."

Althea felt her face and neck flush. "I didn't mean to—"

Lily giggled loudly. "Admit it, you have," she said, savoring her laugh as she looked upon Althea. Her eyes drifted to Althea's hair and she frowned. "Why is your hair wet?"

"Oh right," she murmured and gently bit her bottom lip. "We might've fought in the prefects' bathroom—"

"Prefects' bathroom? How'd he—_Lupin_!"

Althea shrugged. "I've used the girls' bath—"

Lily frowned. "True," she said, rubbing her temples. "Are you defending him?"

Althea vigorously shook her head. "No, no, no, of course not!" she said and laughed nervously. "I'd—I'd never defend him…that arrogant toerag."


	13. Hogwarts, February 1976

**Hogwarts, February 1976**

_What is Lily so afraid of_, Althea thought, as she slowly tiptoed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. _I'm not going to get caught_. In the commotion of the evening, she had forgotten that James had her father's journal, and she decided to retrieve it under the protection of darkness. _I hope James didn't read it_, she thought as she stood outside the fifth-year door. _However, I can't be so sure…. How could I have been so reckless, so stupid_? Her father had written her to use the journal responsibly, but what had she done? She had chucked the journal at Sirius's fat head. _I obviously didn't inherit responsibility from either parent_, she thought, resting her hand on the cool metal of the doorknob.

With the utmost concentration, Althea slowly turned the doorknob; however, the door did not budge. _Stupid lock_, she thought and took out her wand. _Please let this work_. She pointed the wand at the door lock, and with a faint _clink_, the door was unlocked. Althea smiled with relief—she would soon have her father's journal back. She took in a large gulp of air and winced as she turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door. To her delight, the door did not squeak as she opened it—two major problems safely avoided. Althea gently closed the door behind her and tiptoed her way through the fifth-year dormitory. However, which bed was James's bed? It was darker than usual and Althea had to squint to see. Slowly, she tiptoed from each bed and glanced at the nightstand for her father's journal. At the second bed, Althea found James' nightstand, and underneath his glasses, she discovered her father's journal. Cautiously, she lifted James' glasses and slid her father's journal off his nightstand. Silently, she crept across the room and slowly opened the door. Careful to relock the door, Althea softly tiptoed down the boys' dormitory stairs and walked over to the girls' dormitory stairs.

Althea hid her father's journal underneath her mattress. _See, there's nothing to fear_, she thought as she looked at Lily peacefully sleeping. _Nothing happened and I got my father's journal back_. Althea closed her eyes and waited for satisfying sleep.

* * *

The next day, Althea spent her entire afternoon in the library as she finished her paper for History of Magic. _This is the last time I wait until the day before to finish my essay_, Althea thought, as she wrote the last sentence to her paper. Althea placed her quill on the table and rolled up her parchment. _There's no point reading it_, she thought as she leaned back in her chair and yawned, _it's the most boring paper I've ever written. 'Explain in detail, the International Statute of Secrecy, its necessity, and any amendments to the Statute and why.' Good Lord, I hope the O.W.L. isn't that tedious, or else I'll end up shoving this quill in my eye_, she thought as she drowsily gazed at her dull quill.

Sometimes to her, the Wizarding school programs of study were so boring. The education was so basic—did wizards believe in art? Althea rested her head against her folded arms on the table. She enjoyed listening to the stories Lily would tell of her schooling before Hogwarts. Her school had drawing, singing, and even acting in its curricula. The idea of a school play excited Althea. Her father had given her books on Muggle plays, and she would have loved to act as Antigone or Lady Macbeth. Althea had never attended school before Hogwarts—her father had taught her in his very undisciplined and unorthodox manner. She received most of her instruction from her father, and he catered to her daughter's desires almost to the point of indulgence.

Althea reached into her bag and pulled out one of the books her father had given her for Christmas. She took out her bookmark and opened to the middle of the _Communist Manifesto_. Her father had written to her that Muggle Romania had a communist form of government and had sent her the book to enlighten her on different philosophies of Muggle governments. The reading was interesting, and Althea suspected that the word _bourgeoisie_ could be replaced with wizards and the word _proletariat_ could be replaced with house-elves, centaurs, werewolves, vampires—anything the magic world thought of as inferior or threatening. _The magic world better learn quick_, Althea thought as she turned the page, _or this sort of revolution could happen to us_. She frowned. It was happening—that wizard. She never gave much care to the _Daily Prophet_, but the news of disappearances and strange deaths seemed to frequent more pages of that newspaper.

Suddenly, Althea felt someone lean over her shoulder and rest his hands on the table in front of her. Althea realized who it was and gritted her teeth.

"'A part of the bourgeoisie is desirous of redressing social grievances in order to secure the continued existence of bourgeois society,'" Sirius said and took the book from her hands. "Heavy stuff, Miss Morrigan," Sirius added and sat on the table. He flipped through the small red book and sneered. "Starting a revolution, are we?"

"Give it back," Althea sighed and reached for the book.

Sirius pulled the book away from her reach. "No, I think I'll keep this," he said, while casually flipping through its pages. "But then again, you'll just come up in the middle of the night and nick it back," he added and slid the book into his robe pocket. "Unlike James, I'm a light sleeper—be quiet this time, Morrigan."

Althea frowned. "Keep it and read it. Maybe it will enlighten you to show some compassion to those you believe are beneath you."

"Aren't I?"

Althea wanted to hex Sirius, but did not want permanent banishment from the library as Madam Pince had threatened on their last altercation.

"Couldn't you find someone else to bother? A Slytherin perhaps—look—Snape is over there with his nose in a book," she said and pointed in the direction of Snape.

Sirius quickly turned his head in the direction of Snape. _Sorry, Snape_, Althea thought, _but I really want to be left alone—especially left alone by Sirius_.

"Ah, Snivellus," Sirius whispered, but abruptly turned toward her. "No, I think I want to continue _bothering_ you," he added and winked.

Althea rolled her eyes. "What, do you find me fascinating?"

"Yes, actually," he replied and took hold of her right arm. He gently lifted her sleeve to examine her wrist and disappointedly sighed. "Must be the other one," he said and took hold of her other arm. He slowly lifted her sleeve and Althea caught her breath. He closely examined her exposed wrist. "So, _this_ is what it looks like," he whispered, as he gently rubbed his thumb over her tattoo.

Althea nervously retracted her hand. "You read my father's journal. How dare you!"

"How could we not?" he quickly responded and winked. "It'll be finished soon."

Althea gasped in amazement. "How—how did you get all those things so quickly?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair.

Sirius hopped off the table and sat next to her. "Nicked them from the student stores _and_ Professor Slughorn's personal stores."

Althea was about to respond, but was interrupted. "Tisk, tisk," Narcissa remarked as she stood on the other side of the table.

Narcissa's long, glossy blonde hair lightly brushed the top of the table as she leaned forward. _Just go away_, Althea thought. Of their group, which consisted of the likes of Narcissa, Snape (which Althea found laughable), Mulciber, Avery, and Wilkes—the majority of the fifth-year Slytherins and above enjoyed spouting hexes, epithets, and asides to Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and to those they deemed as blood traitors. Althea frowned, Narcissa had never been as vocal, but the rumors of Althea and a nude Sirius rolling around in the boys' dormitory were too much for any respectable blood purist.

"What do you want?" Sirius said gruffly and folded his arms. Althea noticed his silver-tongued demeanor had instantly transformed into one of contempt.

"Dear cousin," Narcissa responded silkily, "answer me: what do you get when you mix a Mudblood with a pure-blood?"

Althea noticed Sirius' jaw tighten and his face redden. "Leave us alone," Sirius said through gritted teeth.

"Well, what _do_ you get?" Narcissa goaded and leaned on the table.

"You," Althea responded politely, leaning forward.

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "How _DARE_ you question me! You filthy Muckblood!" she responded, enraged.

Sirius immediately started for his wand, but Althea grabbed his arm and shook her head.

Althea leaned back in her chair. "Muckblood, _me_?" she said, pointing to her chest. "I don't _need_ your money. I have loads, thanks."

Narcissa leaned over to the table as close as she could get to Althea. Althea was surprised—usually the pure-blood fanatics would keep their distance for fear of contamination. "You wait," she whispered waspishly. "All of you—Mudbloods, Muckbloods, blood traitors—you'll _wish_ you were dead."

"_Bugger off_!" Sirius growled, rising from his chair.

"So, I guess the rumors _are_ true then," Narcissa replied, feigning surprise. "You truly _are_ a disgrace to the family, and you," she added, turning toward Althea, "what a little Muckblood tart. I, like the others, hope you're the first one—you'll die just like your blood traitor _mother_."

Anger erupted in Althea—no one mocked her mother's death. Althea quickly rose from her seat—her wand pointed between Narcissa's eyes. She glanced to her side and saw Sirius's wand pointed at his cousin as well. Her lips upturned into an appreciative smile.

"Put your wand away, Muckblood."

Althea did not waver. "_Femèl chen_," she spouted nastily. "_Chamaux ki besoin konyen pwall couri deye ou na desert_," she finished caustically and spit in Narcissa's face.

The color drained from Narcissa's face. Straining to maintain composure, Narcissa pointed her wand at her face and muttered a charm to remove the saliva. She slowly turned away from the table and silently walked away.

"What did you say to her?" Sirius asked as he sat down.

Althea sighed and sat down. "Oh, two Creole phrases I learned from Marie," she said as a smile crept across her face. "Ridiculous, really, but effective when one is angry."

"Very effective," he laughed. He looked appreciatively at Althea. "You know, you really shouldn't have spat in her face, but it was a nice touch."

A small voice inside her wondered what Narcissa would do to her in retaliation. _Maybe nothing, she's too afraid I'd spit on her again_, Althea thought, _and I would gladly. She could always have her fifth-year friends do something. They'll hear about it, no doubt, and want to do something_.

"I know, but no one speaks ill of my mum."

"You could have my mum," Sirius offered and playfully nudged her arm.

Althea laughed. "No thanks, I remember the Howler from first-year," she replied and mustered a small smile.

"Damn," he replied, feigning disappointment. "I thought she could call someone else, 'shame of my flesh,' for once," he added, and Althea noticed the bitterness he attempted to conceal.

"Oh," she murmured and gently bit her bottom lip. "What did Narcissa mean by her threat?" she asked, and watched Sirius's bitter expression grimly transform.

Sirius shifted in his chair and folded his arms. "What makes you think I know?" he asked quickly, frowning.

"I just thought—"

"Well, you're wrong," he interrupted gruffly, "as usual."

"I just thought, as she is your cousin, maybe you overheard her or something," she explained, disregarding his interruption, "that's all."

"Well I haven't," he replied, unfolding his arms. "Like you, I associate with her as little as possible…all of them."

"It's about that wizard isn't it?" she replied, furrowing her eyebrows. "The one they say is causing all those disappearances," she added, picking up her quill. Althea twirled the upright quill as she spoke, "Do you think she knows?"

Sirius sank into his chair and made grunting noise that Althea could not understand as a yes or no answer. Althea sighed once more with increased awkwardness and kicked the heel of her shoe against the floor. Sirius had not moved and did not seem to want to move from his place next to her. His presence confused her—shouldn't he have left by now? _Why is he still sitting here_, she thought, frowning slightly. _What more does he have to say to me_?

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" she asked, spinning her quill.

"Can't I sit here?" he asked, taking her book from his robe pocket. He opened the book and began to read.

"What are you getting at?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius sighed and placed the open book on the table. "I'm not getting at anything. I'm spending time with a fellow Gryffindor—"

"A fellow Gryffindor that you haven't said a kind word to in five years," she interrupted, her index finger assisting her quill in standing upright.

Sirius leaned back in his chair. "Five years?" he breathed, leaning as far back as he could. "I think I've said _something_ kind to you in five years," he added, and sat upright, his chair slamming forward.

Althea's quill fell over and bounced slightly. "I don't believe so," she replied, smiling a little.

"No, I have," he replied thoughtfully. "Winter Fête. I told you that you looked lovely in your very Muggle gown," he added with a grin.

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine then, _one_ kind word in five years," she replied, but soon frowned. Furrowing her eyebrows, she asked, "Muggle gown? How do you know it was a Muggle gown?"

Sirius folded his arms and smiled smugly. "It wasn't filmy. The other gowns were filmy," he explained, nodding toward Althea's clothing.

Althea laughed. "Filmy?" she repeated, smiling wryly. "When did you become an authority on women's clothing?" she asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

"It has a different feel," he answered, smirking.

"A different feel," she repeated with some derision, turning her head to the side. "Do you wear witches' clothing?"

"No," he snorted, rolling his eyes, "but I've touched a lot of girls to know the difference."

Althea groaned and sneered. "Go away," she lamented, taking a book from her bag.

Sirius shook his head. "Oh no, no," he began, picking up her opened copy of _The Communist Manifesto_, "I have every right, just as much as you, to be here."

Althea sighed as she turned the page in her book of Muggle poetry. "You do, but you don't have to sit next to me," she replied as Sirius loudly turned the page. "Don't you dare lick those pages—"

"Only you'd think of licking them," he muttered casually and chuckled to himself as he continued to read.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, slamming her book against the wooden table—the sound echoed in the recess where they sat.

"Nothing, nothing," he replied with feigned innocence and frowned thoughtfully as he turned the page. "Go back to reading your book and I'll go back to reading mine," he continued and smiled. "Anyway, if you're so adamant about leaving, why don't _you_ leave?"

Althea straightened herself in her chair. "Me?" she huffed, resting her hands on her hips. "_I _was here first. _You're_ interrupting _me_."

Sirius's bark-like laugh echoed throughout the alcove of the library in which they sat. "Admit it, Morrigan, you don't want me to leave," he replied, leaning back on the back legs of his chair.

"I'll push you over," she muttered darkly, narrowing her eyes at the smirking Sirius.

Sirius leaned forward in his chair. "You can't do that to the person who saved your life," he replied with a grin.

"I'd like to forget that," she muttered and returned to reading her book.

"Forget about a Wizard's Debt?" he snorted and laughed once more. "Morrigan, you can't forget about something as powerful and profound as a Wizard's Debt."

"Yes, I can," she said, her grip tightening on her book. "I think the magical and mystical all powerful Wizard's Debt could excuse our indiscretion…. I don't want to owe you anything."

"Do you think I'm particularly happy with this arrangement? It means you have to save my life, and I don't enjoy the idea of you rescuing me," he remarked with a sneer.

Althea's stomach twisted. "I have to rescue you?"

Sirius nodded his head. "You must save me from certain death, Morrigan. Knowing you, I'm not sure you're up to it."

"Not up to it?"

"You're not that strong of a witch, Morrigan," he replied, turning toward his book. "I've seen your dueling."

"What?" she snapped, her eyes widening with anger. "You cheated—"

"I did _not_ cheat," he interrupted heatedly, pointing his finger within inches of her face. "I have never cheated. I don't need to cheat," he added, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a poor witch."

"I am not!" she replied and reached into her pocket for her wand.

"You can't use magic to harm me," he sighed and with his hand lowered her wand.

"Yes, I can, now—"

"I wouldn't use a particularly gruesome hex, Morrigan," he warned with a slight smile. "It'll just bounce off me and hex you…. I know how much you enjoy particularly nasty hexes when I'm involved."

"Liar," she growled and pointed her wand directly at Sirius' chest.

Sirius sighed once more. "You've been warned."

"_Locomotor_ _Mortis_," she said, determined.

To Althea's horror, the curse did not cause Sirius' legs to lock as she had expected. Wide-eyed, she fell backward as she attempted to duck the rebounded curse. Unfortunately, the curse found her and she landed on the ground, her legs locked and her pride wounded. How did this happen? He did not save her life. She had lied, had played the ultimate prank against him. From what she was taught in Charms, Wizard's Debts were complex spells and it took years of intense study to understand them. Her knowledge of the spells was superficial and inadequate. Was it possible to fake a Wizard's Debt? Were there different degrees of Wizard's Debts based on the severity of the situation? _Damn it, what have I done_, she asked herself as she looked from her locked legs to a highly amused and laughing Sirius.

Althea looked back to her legs and attempted to move them. "No," she said in shock, unable to move her legs—her panic quickly rising. "No," she continued frantically, attempting to shake her legs. She looked up as Sirius laughed loudly—her contempt growing. "This wasn't supposed to happen…this wasn't supposed to happen," she repeated, confused and embarrassed. "What did you do?"

Sirius knelt down and muttered the counter curse. "I saved your life," he answered, holding out his hand to help her stand. Althea refused to take it.

Althea stood and sat in her chair. "So I can't curse you?" she asked, shoving her wand in her pocket.

Sirius nodded his head.

"But you can curse me?"

Sirius nodded once more.

"That isn't very fair, is it?" she replied, folding her arms.

"Well, once you save my life, we'll be even," he replied, leaning back into his chair. "Then we can go back to hexing one another."

"Are you saying you won't hex me while there is this debt?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Seems like it, Morrigan," he answered and leaned forward, taking the book in his hands. "Now, where was I," he muttered, quickly flipping through the pages.

Althea frowned. He was not leaving her alone. "Doesn't Potter need you?" she asked, opening her own book.

"Nope, he's engaged," he replied, not looking up from the book.

"He's not bothering Lily—"

"No, no, he's not bothering Lily."

"What about your other friends?" she asked as she looked once more in Sirius's direction.

Sirius absorbed in the reading, did not look up, and did not answer.

"What about your other friends?" she asked with more insistence.

"Engaged, too," he murmured, furrowing his eyebrows.

Althea kicked her heels against the floor. "I thought you never left Potter's side and vice versa," she replied, her shoe slipping off her foot. Frowning, she slid herself slightly underneath the table and slipped her shoe back on her foot.

"We are separate people, you know, despite the rumors to the contrary," he replied, turning a page.

"You know, some girls are beginning to wonder about you and Potter," she teased, reaching to take her book from him. Sirius shifted so she could not retrieve her book. "I think they're jealous."

"They have nothing to be jealous about," he began and smiled. "I think our little rumor is disproving that one," he continued and winked.

"You're not doing anything to deny it?" she asked, frowning.

"Are you?" he asked with some amusement.

"Well, yes," she answered emphatically and paused as Sirius's grin widened. "You're not doing anything, are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes, "You're letting them believe…you are such a swine!"

Sirius, placing his index finger between pages, closed his book and stretched. "When did you care about a little rumor?" he asked, scratching the back of his head.

"When it involves you, I do."

"Well I have, don't worry."

"Right," she sighed and opened her book.

Sirius sighed as well and returned to reading his book.

_Damn it, why won't he leave_, she thought, as she started to read a new poem. _I know I can't—I promised to meet Lily here after her Charms Club meeting_. Althea frowned at her situation, and attempted to read the new poem. However, her annoyance at his presence, and the fact that he seemed to want to be near her agitated her so greatly, those words on the page became a jumbled mess. She thought of moving to another area of the library, but quickly gave up on the idea. _If I leave this table, he'll probably follow me_.

"So," he began in a whisper, leaning closer to her, "are my lips still soft?"

Althea's head jolted back at his question. "What?"

A small smile played across Sirius' lips. "You know…yesterday when I saved your life," he reminded in the same low voice.

"I was unconscious," she replied uncomfortably and bit her bottom lip.

"Oh, come on, Morrigan," he replied with feigned frustration, lifting his face toward the ceiling. "I felt a little…something."

"'A little something?'" she repeated, abashed and wide-eyed.

"Yeah, _something_," he replied, squinting as he looked at the ceiling. "A quiver, really…."

Althea laughed at Sirius's behavior. "You really want to know?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius quickly lifted his head and turned his face toward her. "Yes, of course," he answered, scratching the side of his face.

"They were chapped," she replied and returned to her book.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius raise his fingertips to his lips to feel them. She fought to keep from smiling—the muscles around her mouth aching from her attempt.

Althea heard the chair creak and felt Sirius move exceptionally close to her. "Well, I thought your lips were soft," he whispered and the skin on Althea's neck tingled.

Althea sat upright. "Sod off."

"I would have preferred a, 'thank you,'" he replied as he sat back in his chair.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" she asked with annoyance. "I'm meeting Lily here after her Charms Club meeting. I doubt she'd want to see you with me," she explained and watched Sirius smug demeanor shift.

Sirius raised his eyebrows and folded his arms. "Oh, Miss Perfect Prefect," he commented, leaning his chair back on two legs.

"Don't say anything about Lily," she reprimanded, pointing her index finger at him.

"What?" he laughed, smirking. "I'm _complimenting_ her, Morrigan. Obviously, you haven't received many compliments to know what they are."

Althea frowned and Sirius' smirk converted to a grin. "Why don't you bother one of the girls that care about you? They'll wet themselves with excitement if you'd talk to them," she replied, and nodded toward a group of third-year Gryffindor girls seated four tables away.

Sirius turned his head and the four girls started to giggle. Smiling, he turned his attention back to Althea. "Now, we can't flood the library, can we? I doubt Madam Pince has waterproofed all the books," he remarked, his eyes briefly flickering from Althea to the books behind her.

"You're so bloody pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

"Actually," he began and looked at the girls, who started to giggle again, "I am _very_ pleased with myself."

"Go over and talk to them—they'll enjoy your company more than I ever could."

_How Black can reduce a girl to a stupid, silly, giggling mess I'll never understand_, she thought, looking at the four with a great amount of disdain. _He's certainly enjoying himself_.

Sirius turned toward Althea. "No, I think I want to stay here, and as much as they would enjoy my company, I doubt I'd enjoy theirs," he replied and winked.

"I suppose you enjoy tormenting me instead."

"Tormenting?" he repeated, lazily tracing circles into the table. "You know, Morrigan, some girls consider me a catch."

Althea rolled her eyes. "Catching a disease more like it," she muttered and he stopped tracing circles into the table.

Sirius brought his hand to his hair, brushing back the strands that fell into his face. "That's no way of talking to a person who saved you from mortal peril."

"You just think you're so bloody fantastic that now I can't hex you," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "Like I'm some servant to you."

An impish smile played across his lips as he remarked, "Your ears aren't pointy enough to be a house-elf, but I do need some servicing."

"Berk!" she growled and slammed the side of her fist into his shoulder.

Althea felt a certain satisfaction as the side of her fist collided with his shoulder, creating a dull _thump_. Sirius, nursing his shoulder, looked at her with a certain amount of shock and anger.

"Ow! Why d'you do that?" he replied angrily, continuing to rub his shoulder.

Althea laughed. "There _are_ other non-magic ways of injuring you. _Obviously_, Wizard Debts didn't take into consideration Muggle Methods," she explained smugly, leaning back in her chair.

"Damn," he murmured, glaring at her, "only you'd find a loophole."

Althea smiled, but quickly frowned as Sirius directed his attention toward Snape. His head bent—his nose millimeters from his parchment—Snape sat, feverishly writing his paper for History of Magic. _Where did he find all those books_, she thought, eyeing the large piles of books scattered across the table.

"Who does he think he is?" Sirius murmured with palpable disgust, still staring at Snape. "History of Magic—like that class is important."

"Well, I suppose when your Great Uncle is a famous troll hunter, you don't need History of Magic like the rest of us."

"You forgot my great-great-great-great grandfather that distinguished himself during the Goblin Rebellion," he replied, not taking his eyes from the unaware Snape.

"Which one?" she asked, attempting to hide her amusement. "There were so many rebellions."

"Exactly," he remarked and the two burst into laughter. "Right," Sirius continued, smiling as the laughter quieted. "I bet Snape has footnotes—loads of footnotes. I bet his whole paper is just of footnotes."

"Probably," she replied and frowned. "Were we supposed to have footnotes?"

"I didn't use any—bloody hell! Look at that! Three parchments!" he replied, waving his hand in Snape's direction. Without looking up, Snape moved the third parchment to the side and continued onto the fourth parchment. "He needs more fun in his life, don't you think?"

"Leave him alone, Black," she warned, looking from Snape to Sirius.

"Morrigan, look at him. He's sitting there with his greasy nose pressed to the parchment, smearing every word he writes. He hasn't looked up to see his worthless three parchments," he explained with mock thoughtfulness.

Althea noticed Sirius had taken his wand from his robe pocket. "What are you going to do?" she asked, eyeing Sirius and then Snape.

"A little fun, that's all," he answered, raising his wand. "_Fonticulus_," he muttered, pointing his wand in the direction of Snape's inkwell.

The inkwell rattled slightly, a droplet of ink leapt onto the rim of the inkwell, and danced for a few moments on the rim. Sirius, controlling the droplet with his wand, allowed it to flip and shake—almost as if the droplet was a sentient being and a droplet of ink dancing was an everyday occurrence.

"Sirius, no," she warned, watching the dancing droplet.

"Watch," he said eagerly, nodding toward Snape and the dancing droplet.

"No!" Althea gasped, her eyes widening.

"_Fonticulus_!" he whispered excitedly.

In one swift movement of his wand, the droplet of ink leapt from the inkwell and splattered across Snape's cheek. Althea covered her mouth as droplets of ink slowly trickled down Snape's face, the many droplets collecting into one at his sallow jaw.

Sirius, smiling mischievously, nudged the astonished Althea. "He doesn't even realize there's ink on his face," he laughed as another droplet emerged on the inkwell rim.

"Sirius, stop it," she reprimanded, resting her hand on his forearm. "It's not funny. Stop acting like an idiot."

Sirius laughed louder as the droplet lifted off the inkwell brim. "Come on, Morrigan…look," he replied, and Althea turned to see the second droplet splattering across Snape's cheek.

Althea frowned as Snape—unaware—smeared the droplets as he scratched his jaw with his quill, leaving a thick black streak across his jaw and lower cheek. "You're a horrible person."

"Not too horrible, I did save your life," he remarked, placing his wand in his robe pocket.

"You only did so because you didn't want to be expelled; otherwise—"

"I would have saved it regardless," he interrupted brusquely, his voice tightening. "Anyway, when did you start defending Snape?"

"He's Lily's friend," she replied at which Sirius laughed. "_Good_ friend."

"Right, her _good_ friend that calls you—"

"A Muckblooded tart, I know," she muttered and glanced toward Snape—the ink had smeared to his temple. "Such a bloody hypocrite!"

"Hypocrite?" he whispered into her ear.

Althea sat upright.

"Miss Morrigan, how do you know Snivellus is a hypocrite?" he asked, his voice betraying his eagerness. "Morrigan?"

She looked once more to Snape, narrowed her eyes as he glared at the pair, and turned to Sirius. "His father's a Muggle."

"A Muggle?"

Sirius's eyes sparkled with the utmost mischief. Althea briefly regretted the revelation, but the memory of Snape and his Slytherin friends earlier that afternoon, harassing the Muggle-born third-year Gryffindors, entered her mind. _How is Lily—a Muggle-born—okay, but the others aren't? He never misses an opportunity to belittle me_.

"A Muggle," she repeated, staring—determined—into his eyes.

"Wow," he began, leaning closer, "that is a serious accusation to a Slytherin...especially with the lot he's been hanging round."

"It's _not_ an accusation," she replied, leaning closer as well. "It's a fact. Lily told me on the first train to Hogwarts."

Sirius chuckled softly. "You've kept that a secret this entire time?"

Althea nodded.

"And of all the people in the world, you confide this enormously damning secret to _me_?" Sirius knowingly narrowed his eyes at her. "You want me to expose him, don't you?"

"No, I don't want that—"

"He says revolting things about you!"

"And you don't?" she remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius's eyes widened. "I would never call you _that_!" he said, his voice slightly higher.

Althea let out a spiteful laugh. "Yes, you have, or have you forgotten?"

"Take that back, Morrigan. Don't you dare lie—"

"You did."

Sirius looked horrorstruck. "What? When?" he demanded, his jaw tightened. "You're mistaken—"

Althea leaned back in her chair. "Our first-year—after the Sorting," she said, staring at her robes. "I thought some of the sweets my father sent me would cheer you up after that nasty Howler about the Sorting Ceremony, but instead, you called me a, 'Muckblood.'"

Sirius was silent.

"I never expected it from my own House," she said quietly, turning her face toward Sirius.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. His expression was one Althea could not quite determine. Horror? Confusion? Embarrassment? Althea was not sure.

"You shouldn't expect it at all," he muttered, his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry."

"I should go," she said and started to collect her things in her bag.

"Wait," he said, grabbing her forearm.

Althea let go of the unused parchment.

"Has your father written anything more on Muggles noticing magic in other parts of the world—"

"You've read one of my father's books? When did you start reading?" she asked and laughed with surprise. "And why my father's books?"

"There's nothing wrong with _reading_, is there? I can read whatever I please," he explained, slightly agitated. "Remus used it for his paper and I read it."

Althea threw her head back and laughed. "I don't believe this!" she laughed, holding her side. "_You've_ read one of my father's books. This now brings the total to four people reading his books because I doubt my own father has read them," she continued. "Honestly, I had no idea."

"I think more than four people have read his books," he replied, frowning at her. "The book Remus has is in its second printing."

"Then it brings the total of readers to eight then," she replied, still amused that Sirius would have anything to do with her or her father.

_It must have been a nasty surprise when he discovered that the Morrigan of the book was the same Morrigan that is my father_, she thought, stretching in her chair. _Oh, would I have loved to have been there to see that look—that reaction in him_.

"Morrigan, pay attention for once," he lamented as Althea returned to her former position. "Has your father written anything else?"

Althea furrowed her eyebrows as she thought. Her father was always discovering that Muggles new more than the Ministry let on, but Muggles did not care. They viewed witches and wizards as eccentric creatures obsessed with the New Age or latest counterculture fad. Even more so, magical creatures were seen, but were written off as hallucinations by too much drink, too many drugs, or mental illness. In some areas of the world, all it would take is a wizard flying across the background of an on location news story during a television news broadcast and magic would be discovered once more. Of course, those that saw it would be shuffled to the margins along with those that believed they have witnessed UFO's.

"About Muggles? I don't believe so."

"Oh," he murmured disappointedly.

"Why?" she asked, tucking a curl behind her ear.

Sirius shrugged. "I'd like to know why magic ruins Muggle machinery," he explained, scratching the side of his face. "I thought about buying a motorbike—"

"A motorbike?"

"Yeah," he breathed, smiling. He leaned back in his chair. "It'll fly, too."

"Fly?" Althea smiled with surprise.

Sirius nodded—pleased with himself.

"I don't believe you."

Sirius' smile faded. "Don't believe me?"

"No," she teased.

"Don't believe me," he mouthed and reached into his robe pocket.

Sirius removed a folded piece of paper. He carefully opened and smoothed the worn, dull paper onto the table. Althea bit her lip as not to giggle at the old advertisement.

"There," he said and pointed at the black and chrome vehicle. "Better than any broom."

Althea peered at the advertisement from 1973. "I like brooms, though."

Sirius made a derisive noise. "Come off it, Morrigan. Brooms? Nah, a motorbike is loads better," he replied, taking the advertisement in his hands. He sighed dreamily. "Just imagine sitting on the back of this motorbike—"

"I will never sit on a back of any motorbike—"

Sirius threw his head back in exasperation. "God, Morrigan, _imagine_ _it_?" he said and lifted his head. "As if I'd take you, anyway. You'd want me to slow…just like your broom riding."

Althea straightened herself. "I do _not_ fly slowly!"

"Slower than me—"

"If you remember, we hit that broom shed at equal speed."

Sirius chuckled. "I don't remember much about that incident."

"Of course, you wouldn't."

"Oh, come off it, Morrigan, that was _ages_ ago," he said and looked in the direction of where Snape sat. He laughed.

Althea turned to see Snape collecting his parchments. "He has no idea, does he?"

"None," he said.

Sirius leaned very close to Althea—his hand on the back of her chair. Althea's eyes flickered to her right. Sirius's cheek was very close. His mouth slightly opened and his eyes on Snape—he seemed to revel in Snape's future discovery.

"How long do you reckon before he discovers?"

Snape continued to stuff parchments and books into his bag. "Oh, I don't know…. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"Before or after class?"

"Before, I'd think."

"Right," Sirius breathed.

Suddenly, Althea jolted upright, a feeling of dread seeped through her—she _enjoyed_ her conversation with Sirius. _What am I doing_, she thought and bit her lip_. We're not supposed to converse. We're supposed to scream, to hex, and to throw things at one another_. It might have been the first civil conversation the two of them had ever had—outside the presence of Hogwarts faculty, and even then, Althea debated if it they ever truly had. She shuddered from the thought.

Sirius noticed. "What—what's wrong?" he asked, sitting back in his chair. "You're not feeling guilty about Snivellus, are you?"

"No, no, of course, not," she answered. "We're having a normal conversation."

"Yes, we are," he said, with a small amount of amazement. He ran his fingers through his thick black hair. "Scary, absolutely scary."

Althea sighed. "Indeed," she said quietly. "I hate you, you know," she added and was surprised at the unnaturalness of her voice.

"I know," Sirius replied and winked.

* * *

'A part of the bourgeoisie is desirous of redressing social grievances in order to secure the continued existence of bourgeois society'-_The Communist Manifesto_


	14. Hogwarts, March 1976

**Hogwarts, Late March 1976**

"Althea, there was a post for you upstairs," Lily said and walked toward Althea. "Here," she added, handing Althea the envelope. "I'll see you after the meeting."

Althea took the large, awkward manila envelope into her hands. "Right, thanks," she muttered as she turned over the envelope to discover the sender.

Althea felt Lily's apprehension.

"It's probably nothing. Look, it's from Gran," she said reassuringly and pointed at the return address. "She probably wants to remind me of what a waste it is for me to go to this place."

Lily bit her lip and, with a troubled look in her eyes, stared at the envelope. "It's odd, that's all," she said, frowning. "Receiving owl post at this time of day."

Althea smirked. "It's Gran and everything's odd about her—that woman lives to torture me," she replied, and flung the envelope next to her as she sat on one of the common room couches.

"Althea," Lily admonished and folded her arms, "you shouldn't talk like that—she's your Gran."

Althea wrinkled her nose.

"She's all you've got here."

"Yeah, well, my daddy's coming back," she said eagerly, smiling.

"Are you sure? What about Christmas?" Lily said and stared into Althea's eyes. Uncomfortable, Althea shifted her gaze away from Lily. "Just don't count on him for Easter Holiday," she added softly. "I have to go. I'll see you after the meeting."

"Right, then," Althea muttered—annoyed—and looked at the envelope.

_I should toss this thing in the fire_, she thought, taking the envelope in her hands. _I don't need a lecture from Gran_. Lazily, she tore off the end of the manila envelope, and a narrow, cream-colored envelope dropped onto her lap. _Gran still doesn't trust owl post_, she thought and took the envelope into her hands. Sighing, she read the address on the back flap of the envelope: _Darrow Earnest & Torvald, Hastings_—an address Althea did not recognize.

_What could I possibly have done now_, she asked herself as she turned the envelope over. _Maybe this is a letter telling me that Gran disowned me_, she thought and laughed as she stood. _If only it was, but of course, she was never that generous_. Althea read the name on the outside of the envelope:

_The Rt. Hon. the Countess of Northfield_

_This is addressed to Gran, why did Gran send me her post_, she thought as she ran her fingers across the black ink. She gently tapped the letter against her hand, annoyed that she would have to go to the Owlery so late. Her father was the Earl Northfield and she was just Lady Althea…unless—Althea stumbled backward and shook her head. No, this letter had to have been sent by mistake, addressed by mistake, or detailed some boring legal matter Gran or her father could not take care of for her. Althea licked her dry lips—her Gran wouldn't tell her horrible news in a letter, would she? The small sick feeling in her stomach grew as she thought of the disappearances. Her father was in Romania—away from the disturbance. Althea sat down, shakily unfolded the crisp white paper, and read:

_Dear Lady Northfield,_

_It is with the utmost sympathy and regret that we write to inform you of your father's untimely passing…._

Althea placed the letter on her lap and covered her mouth as she started to shake. Her mind swam in confusion as she tightly clutched the letter. Her feelings petrified, Althea violently rocked back and forth. Her father, dead? The thought triggered Althea's stomach to jerk forward and she clamped her other hand on her abdomen to prevent herself from vomiting on the common room floor. How? How could her father have died? He was in excellent health. He had written her a week earlier. He was supposed to return for Easter Holiday. Althea continued to read the solicitor's letter—her body and mind gradually numbing:

_…The Rt. Hon., the Dowager Countess (of) Northfield requests your presence on Easter Holiday to overlook arrangements for your future. Those arrangements include the cessation of your attendance at your present school and entering a school for girls close to your home at Northfield. The provisions for your entrance are complete, you will have ample time to settle your affairs at your current school, and you will expect to arrive to continue your education 1 September…._

The words mixing and blurring, Althea refused to read the rest of the letter. She stood and let the letter slip from her fingertips, and with a soft thud, the letter landed at her feet. She did not bother retrieving the letter—maybe if she did not the letter would go away and her father would be alive. Althea numbly walked out of the common room, through the Fat Lady's portrait and into the corridor. Without hesitation, she walked down the many staircases, and through the corridor that led outside to the Hogwarts grounds. Her eyes fixed and her hands clenched at her sides, Althea walked toward the broom shed. She removed her wand from her robe, and muttered the charm to open the door. Effortlessly, the door unlatched, and the musty smell of earth and timber wafted into her nostrils.

As Althea looked upon the brooms, she was unsure of what she would do. Run away? Where would she go? Her father dead, she would no longer be a student of Hogwarts, and her life uncertain once more. _Lucky that Lily had the Charms Club meeting tonight_, Althea thought darkly as she unlocked her broom, _and lucky Jane went with her_. Easily, she lifted into the unusually warm early March air. She flew recklessly, high, and fast—she did not care anymore. Over the lake, weaving between trees, inches above boulders—if she fell off, she would make damn sure she would not wake up. She circled high above the lawn, at each revolution increasing her speed, until she gained so much momentum to splatter herself against the Whomping Willow. _The Whomping Willow_, she thought morbidly as she spotted it in the distance._ Gran would only get pieces. She wouldn't have to spend any money, and she could put me in a shoebox_. Althea dove in altitude and leaned forward to increase her speed. Her sight blurred by tears, she closed her eyes and waited for impact….

* * *

_Death is soft_, Althea thought, her eyes still closed. Slowly, she opened her eyes and felt the cool damp grass beneath her. She disappointedly stared at the night sky as she realized she was not dead and she was not hurt. Groggy, she gradually raised herself onto her elbows to see where she had landed. _How did I get on the other side of the lake_, she thought as she glimpsed the moonlight reflecting off the blackened lake.

"I thought you could fly better than that," Sirius said casually as he knelt next to her. "Some Seeker you are."

"Bastard!"

Althea thrust her clenched fist toward Sirius and it collided with Sirius's left cheek. The feeling of her fist hitting his soft skin and strong cheekbone felt sickeningly pleasant to her. Sirius fell backwards, groaning, and Althea flew on top of him with her left fist waiting to collide with his right cheek. Sirius grabbed her left fist before she could punch him, and with his other hand pushed her off him. Althea landed on the soft grass, fuming.

"I just saved your life!" Sirius roared angrily and clutched his hand to his cheek.

"Oh, and I bet you're so proud," Althea snapped and folded her arms. "I'm so grateful for you saving me," she added, feigning gratitude. "How could I ever repay you?"

Sirius shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand you," he commented disbelievingly. "Look—look at what's left of your broom," he added and pulled out the splinters of her broom from his robe pocket. "That could have been you."

Althea watched as he sprinkled the splinters onto her lap. "Heh, I wish it was," she mumbled mournfully.

"Morrigan—"

Althea lowered her head and let her long curls fall into her face, obscuring her tears. "My father is dead," she said barely audible—her throat excruciatingly tight. The repulsive words echoed in her ears.

The large, warm droplets easily slid down her cheeks and she did not bother to wipe them away. Suddenly, Althea sensed Sirius arms gently wrap around her and pull her closer toward him. Althea buried her head against Sirius's chest and vigorously sobbed, clutching his robes with her shaky hands. She should have fought against him or felt embarrassed at allowing Sirius to comfort her, but she did not care anymore. Sirius silently held Althea as she shook against him. He did not murmur pleasantries, or that it would come right, or try to quiet her. Instead, he quietly rocked her and held her tighter with each violent shake.

She was devastated and enraged—at her father's death, her grandmother's request, but most of all, at herself. Why had she not insisted on his return over the summer? Why had she not put up a fight when he cancelled his Christmas visit? What could have been more important than spending time with his daughter? _Maybe if he missed me so much he should have come home_, she thought, taking a deep breath, _then he might still be alive_.

Althea, although weak from crying, managed to push herself away from Sirius. "You probably think I'm pathetic," she said, wiping her eyes with her hands.

Sirius reached in his robe pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "No, here," he replied soothingly and gently wiped her eyes.

"You don't need to do this," she said, lowering her head.

She did not like experiencing the vulnerability she had hidden inside, and most of all she did not want to share that with someone else. She felt like a child.

Sirius lifted her chin. "Don't argue," he replied as he dabbed the corner of her eye.

Althea sighed. "Really, I'm fine. You don't have to be so noble."

"I can't help it. It's one of my many character flaws," he responded, smiling tenderly.

Uncomfortable, Althea gently lowered his hand from her face. "I—I'm fine now," she said awkwardly, staring at her skirt. "You can go away now."

"I think the last thing you need is to be left alone," he said and tugged at her skirt. "I'm not going to leave you."

"I'm not going to—"

"I just know what it's like, that's all," he interrupted and sighed heavily. "You're not really sad—you're angry—blindingly angry," he added and pulled at blades of grass.

Althea frowned, puzzled. "How—but how would you know?" she asked and sniffed loudly.

Sirius took a deep breath. "My dad—he died when I was thirteen," he replied, staring at the broken blades of grass in his hand. "Heart attack two weeks before the start of my third year."

"Oh, I—I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Sirius replied bitterly. "He left me with that woman."

"You shouldn't talk about your mother like that," she replied, wiping new tears from the corners of her eyes. "At least you have a mother."

Sirius laughed bitterly. "What a great one she is—the old hag. I could scarcely stand her when dad was alive, but now…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"But she's your mother," she began and swallowed her tears. "I hardly knew mine. You're so lucky."

"Heh, lucky? Please, you've met other members of my family. She's just like them," he said and threw the blades of grass to his side. "I'm the first Black not sorted into Slytherin in centuries. You remember the Howler?"

"I thought you didn't want to be sorted there?" she asked quietly.

"I didn't," he said, staring into her eyes. "I hate the whole lot of them. Well, except for Andromeda, but she's blasted off the family tree and disowned," he finished and sighed bitterly.

"How terrible," she whispered and moved to Sirius' side.

"Yeah, well she eloped with some Muggle-born two summers ago. My mother said the shock of her betrayal caused my father's heart attack. Can you believe that?"

"Awful," she murmured as Sirius bit the inside of his cheek.

"That woman had us stand and watch as she blasted Andromeda's name off the tapestry of the family tree," he continued, and mimicked his mother blasting Andromeda from the family tree. "She warned us that she could easily do the same to us."

"She's your mother! How—how could she do that to you?" she asked—amazed that another person could be as heartless as her Gran.

"Easy, but it was harder when my dad was alive. He thought it was a phase."

"A phase?" Althea repeated, puzzled.

"Yeah, he believed Muggles and the like were good for a _few things_," he answered with palpable disgust.

Althea gasped when she realized what he was insinuating. "Disgusting."

"I agree," he said and brought his knees up to his chest.

"But—but wouldn't it be easier just to pretend to agree with them? You don't want to lose your family?" she asked and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"It would be, but you can't change who you are, can you?" he remarked and stared into Althea's eyes.

"I guess not," she responded quietly.

"Anyway, they're not my family. I'm just the scourge of her flesh—an unwanted disgrace—a mistake," he replied and attempted to laugh.

Althea recognized that the words his mother spoke genuinely hurt him, and that most of all he needed to be wanted. It was depressing, and Althea felt sorry for him. _What is wrong with me? I'm feeling sympathy for Black_, she thought and slightly shuddered. _I never thought we'd have something in common_.

"Sounds like my Gran."

"I'm sorry," he replied, pulling up more pieces of grass and throwing them at his shoes. "I only thought there was one of my mother."

Althea sighed and stretched out her legs. "At least your mother doesn't enroll you in a Muggle public school without your knowledge," she said and blinked heavily—her eyes ached and were raw from crying.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What Muggle school?"

Althea licked her lips. "I'm leaving Hogwarts…my Gran sent me a letter."

Sirius quickly turned toward her, which caused Althea to sit back. "What?"

Althea took a deep breath. "My Gran—she sent me a letter about my father's death—"

Sirius slammed his palm against the earth. "Wait, she _told_ you about your father _dying_ in a _letter_?" he asked—his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I got it by owl this evening—"

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head. Sirius's jaw tightened and his face paled in the moonlight. "No—no, you can't go. I won't let you leave."

Althea raised an eyebrow—mildly amused that he thought he could defy her grandmother's wishes. "You won't _let_ me leave?"

_Of all people, I'd think Black would be happy to see me leave_, she thought as she studied Sirius. _Maybe he's upset that Gryffindor loses its Seeker_.

"You can't leave. You don't belong in a Muggle school," he explained and jabbed the earth with his forefinger. "You belong _here_."

"I know that," she said sadly, looking at her skirt. "I don't want to go there, but I have no choice—"

"Yes, you do," Sirius said, determined. "Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes, go see him," he said, placing his hands on Althea's shoulders. "If you tell him, I know he won't let you leave."

"I'm fifteen."

"So?" he snorted and pulled her closer to him. "What does that have to do with asking Dumbledore's help?"

Althea caught her breath as she looked into Sirius's grey eyes. She was unnerved by how intensely he stared at her.

"It's already been decided," she said quietly, her gaze unwavering from his.

"No," he murmured.

"All is not lost," a calm voice said behind them, and Sirius quickly removed his hands from her shoulders.

Althea wondered how long Professor Dumbledore had stood behind them and how much of the conversation he had heard. She hoped he had not heard her express her suicide wish, or else she would be committed to St. Mungo's by early morning.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Sirius said and hastily stood—shoving his hands in his pockets. "I was just—"

"Yes, Sirius, that will be all," Dumbledore said, stepping forward. "Please return to your dormitory."

Sirius looked from Dumbledore to Althea.

"You can be assured that Althea will not be leaving Hogwarts anytime soon," Dumbledore said, with a barely noticeable, amused smile.

Althea noticed Sirius's face flush slightly, and quickly shook her head to combat her own blushing.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking to the ground.

"I must ask Althea if she will join me in my office," Dumbledore said, observing the pair over his crescent moon glasses. "Goodnight, Sirius."

Sirius inhaled and nodded.

Dumbledore offered his hand to Althea to assist her in standing. As the two walked toward the castle, Althea realized she was still holding Sirius's handkerchief in her hand. _I really should give it back to him_, she thought, looking at the handkerchief in her hand. She noticed his initials embroidered in silver at the corner. Sensing that Sirius had not left the grounds, Althea turned her head to see him looking at her. Althea inhaled a sharp breath and clutched the handkerchief tightly in her hand as Sirius, realizing she was looking at him, quickly turned away, massaging the back of his neck. _I don't understand_, she thought, as she resumed looking ahead of her. _I really don't understand what happened just now_.

* * *

The last place Althea wanted to be was in Dumbledore's office. She sniffed and listened to the tinkling and clinking of the gadgets around her. At any other time, she would have enjoyed exploring the many gadgets, trinkets and the endless collection of books, but Althea wanted to escape. What could Dumbledore possibly say that would comfort her? Her Gran was her guardian and she decided Althea's future. Althea had no choice—she would return to life as a Muggle. No Hogwarts. No Quidditch. No magic. No Lily. At eleven, Althea would have gladly returned to life as a Muggle, but at fifteen, she finally was finding her place. She would be a Healer—even Flitwick praised her as a natural with Healing Charms. Were there Muggles like her? Doubtful.

"Oh, Althea," Professor McGonagall sniffed as she hugged Althea. "I'm so sorry."

Althea awkwardly wiggled her way out of Professor McGonagall's tight grip. "Thank you," she murmured, twisting Sirius's handkerchief in her hands.

"If there is anything—"

"Minerva, please sit."

Althea heard McGonagall sit behind her, and McGonagall continued to sniff as Althea waited for Dumbledore to speak.

"Althea, please sit down," Dumbledore said politely.

Althea nodded and sat before Dumbledore's desk. She had only been to the Headmaster's office once before—with Sirius—when they dared one another at the broom shed. Her eyes drifted past Dumbledore's concerned face to the portrait of the man with the pointy beard. She sneered at him and he sneered back.

"I have been in contact with your father for many years," said Dumbledore and leaned back in his chair. "I found his adventures and research to be very interesting, and I must say, highly entertaining."

He smiled to himself, and Althea wondered how someone could smile after such devastating news.

"Recently, I received a letter from your father," he added and produced a thick envelope. He carefully took out a bulky letter in her father's handwriting. "It included a new version of his will."

"My father knew he was going to die?" Althea asked, leaning forward. "Was he ill? He never told me he was ill!"

Dumbledore raised his fingertips to his lips. "It is a very uneasy time. We've had three other students' parents die or disappear this year alone…and I'm sorry to say that more will follow." Dumbledore sighed sadly. "Althea, do you remember your mother's death?"

Althea nodded her head as Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably in her very comfortable chair. She wondered what her mother's death had to do with any of it. Althea thought about that morning—or was it afternoon—her mother's voice (she can't truly remember), Marie, the cupboard—she quickly shut her eyes. She did not want to remember anymore.

"The three other students, your mother, and your father are all connected—"

"Wait, my father's death wasn't an accident?"

Dumbledore nodded his head.

Althea gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth. "My father was _murdered_?"

Dumbledore nodded and McGonagall let out a sob.

Althea's hands slowly began trembling and she forcefully held them together in her lap.

"Your parents made very powerful enemies," Dumbledore continued calmly.

"Who? My father is an anthropologist! My mum took care of me!"

"Before your birth," Dumbledore said over Althea, "your mother researched a highly controversial topic in the Wizarding world."

Althea frowned. Her mother—controversial? In her mind, her mother was beautiful and serene. Dressed in fine robes, she read to Althea and allowed Althea to help her in the garden. Her mother baked cookies and painted exotic scenery. She certainly did not provoke controversy.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, what did she—"

Dumbledore continued—ignoring Althea's question, "After her death, your father continued her research, and I must say, I found the findings intriguing."

Althea's contempt slowly simmered inside her and she roughly sat back in her chair—she had a right to know.

"Recently, your father was on the verge of a breakthrough in his research, but was murdered before completion," he finished and frowned. Althea did not know if he was frowning for her father or his lost research.

"Where is the research now?"

"Safe," he replied firmly. "Safe until it is time to reveal its findings."

Althea was annoyed at his replies. _He probably won't tell me who murdered my parents_, she thought looking at her muddied shoes. She did not bother to ask.

"Sir, my Gran—"

Dumbledore nodded. "I, too, received a letter about your departure."

Althea's stomach sank. "I'll—I'll have to go, then?"

"Of course not! How could you leave?" McGonagall shouted and wiped her eyes. "What is that woman thinking? It's not safe—"

"_Minerva_," Dumbledore warned, looking over his half moon glasses.

McGonagall nodded. "Sorry," she muttered, wiping her eyes. "So unfeeling, cold, she doesn't deserve…" she continued to mutter.

Dumbledore lifted a thick stack of folded parchment. "Your father left a copy of his will with me, and according to this will," Dumbledore explained and unfolded the thick parchment, "you decide whether or not to continue your education at Hogwarts."

A small, but happy feeling erupted inside her. "I'm staying."

"I thought that would be your answer," he said, folding the thick stack of parchment. "I've taken the liberty to send a letter to your grandmother detailing your plans and the stipulations in your father's new will."

"Thank you, sir," Althea replied and mustered a weak smile.

Dumbledore nodded. "I suppose you would like to return to the dormitories. I assume a few Gryffindors are concerned about your whereabouts," he said, staring at her over his glasses.

Althea swallowed uncomfortably.

Althea entered the Gryffindor common room to find Lily, alone, sitting next to the fire. Lily looked as though she had been crying—her nose red and her eyes puffy. Althea walked over to the fire and sat across from her. For a few moments, the girls stared at each other in silence. Althea was not sure what to do, and she deduced that Lily did not know what to say. She did not want her to say anything. She did not understand what it was like to lose a parent. Sirius knew what it was like to lose a parent—a parent that protected one from a monster. Strangely, she would rather talk with Sirius. He understood and he did not judge her. She thought he would have laughed at her crying, but instead, he comforted her. _Maybe Remus was right_, Althea thought disappointedly. _I might have his character all wrong_.

Althea realized that Lily had sat next to her and had wrapped her arms around Althea. She rested her head on Lily's shoulder and started to cry again. Althea felt warm tears drip down her forehead—Lily was also crying.

"I'm so sorry," Lily whispered and held Althea tighter. "I love you, Althea."

Althea held Lily tighter at those words. She loved Lily more than anyone alive.

"You don't have to leave Hogwarts, too," she whispered and kissed Althea's forehead. "My parents will take you in without hesitation, I know it. I'll owl them immediately."

Althea calmed herself to a point where she could reply. "I don't have to leave. My father wrote a new will," she replied and gently pulled away from Lily. "Nasty shock to Gran, I must say."

"Still," Lily replied and wiped her eyes, "I don't know what to say."

"I really don't need you to say anything."

"No, it's not good enough," Lily said plainly. "I need to do something…. Here, look at me."

"What?"

Lily placed her hands on Althea's shoulders. "_Look_ at me," she said and pointed to her eyes.

Althea looked into Lily's deep emerald eyes. Lily tapped her wand against Althea's temple and murmured, "_Conspicio clarum empathia_."

Suddenly, Althea was aware of herself being jolted from her body and swiftly speeding through a tunnel of thousands of photographs. The images began to slow, and Althea realized each photograph was a movie of Lily's life. It was an overwhelming sensation to see and to feel from Lily's eyes. She furrowed her eyebrows at a suspiciously familiar pair of hazel eyes closing exceptionally close before her face. She heard Lily gasp and giggle. Althea attempted with all her strength to pull away, but the memories continued until the last image she saw was just before Lily had Althea look into her eyes. The tunnel widened and Althea stared into Lily's eyes.

"What—what was that?" Althea asked, blinking. "I saw…everything."

"An Empathy Charm—a type of Memory Spell," she replied. "I wanted to help you."

"How would that help me?" she asked, staring before her. "I don't know what to make of it," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I saw…"

Althea felt disturbed by what she saw as Lily would know her secrets. Lily had led a charmed, pleasant life with her mum, dad, and sister, but Althea's life—despite its overwhelming privilege—was not as happy. That charm, which Lily used in such goodwill, should not have been used so cavalier.

A small crease appeared between Lily's eyebrows. "I wanted to know," she said, looking to her hands. "It wasn't good enough—"

"Lily—"

"I didn't want you alone!" she said, looking into Althea's eyes. "I thought it the best way to understand, and I do!" She wiped the tears from her eyes—Althea thought of handing her the handkerchief, but thought better of it.

Althea placed her hand upon Lily's hand. "Thank you," she murmured and tenderly pressed her hand.

Lily blushed.

Althea knew immediately what Lily was blushing about, and she began to blush as well.

"You and—oh, I can't even say it!" Lily said and covered her mouth.

Althea surveyed the room—it was still empty. She nodded.

Lily gasped.

"Please, don't say anything," Althea said, resting her hands on Lily's shoulders. "We made a promise never to tell."

"I won't," Lily said solemnly. "Oh and he!"

"Don't say one word about that! No one is supposed to know!"

"I would never say anything," Lily replied, smoothing wet hair from Althea's face. "You—you knew before?"

Althea nodded.

"Wow," Lily breathed.

Suddenly, her eyes grew wide. "You—you and Potter!"

Lily sat upright and folded her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Three years ago, you were dared to kiss Potter," she said, pointing her finger at Lily. "No wonder he doesn't leave you alone."

"I'm not proud of what I did," Lily said defensively. "It's Mary's fault."

Althea sighed. "Anyway, how long does this charm last?" she asked, stroking a curl behind her ear.

Lily sighed as well. "It doesn't," she answered, standing. "Come on, you need your sleep."

Althea and Lily quietly crept up the girls' dormitory staircase. Althea exhausted and decided she would sleep the entire next day—thankfully, it was the weekend. She slipped into her lilac silk nightgown and quietly walked toward her bed.

"I'll join you," Lily whispered and kissed Althea's forehead.

"It's not—"

"Who crawled into my bed when I was homesick?" Lily asked, smiling as she looked down at Althea.

As Lily readied for bed, Althea noticed out of the corner of her eye a somewhat large box upon her bed. _What is this_, she thought, taking the box in her hands. Quietly, she shut her drapes and carefully opened the box. Althea gasped and covered her mouth as she discovered the ingredients for the Animagus transformation. She unfolded a small piece of parchment and read the note:

_New moon is almost here. Thought you'd like this._

_Sirius_

Althea folded the note, placed it in the box, and quickly tucked the box underneath her bed. She opened her curtains to see Lily's pleasant smile. The two girls crawled underneath the bedclothes and waited for sleep. However, as Althea felt Lily's protective arm around her waist, she could not sleep. Thoughts of her father, her grandmother, Hogwarts, and Sirius crowded her mind. She winced as she tried to suppress each one, but the thought of Sirius would not go away. She caught breath as she remembered the intensity at which he stared at her. _What is happening_, she asked herself as Lily shifted next to her. _Why did he comfort me on the grounds earlier? Why did he give me this box? What does he want_?


	15. Hogwarts, Late March 1976

**Hogwarts, Late March 1976**

"Althea, wake up," Lily said pulling back the curtains around Althea's bed.

Althea mumbled sleepily and turned over onto her side. She quickly pulled the thick blankets over her head and tightly shut her eyes. It was Monday, and two days since the news of her father's death. She did not want to face the other students or attend classes. She had not interacted with any students—except for Lily and Jane, when they brought her meals that Althea barely touched. Althea liked sleep—she had slept for the majority of the past two days, and had no intention to do anything else. Her comfort came from her dreams, and in her dreams, her father was alive and no one bothered her to talk about her feelings.

"Althea, we have class," Lily said and tugged at Althea's blankets.

Althea tightened her grip on her blankets.

"Althea!" she shouted and grabbed Althea's blankets.

The cool breeze created by Lily pulling off Althea's blankets caused her to shiver. Althea sat up and roughly rubbed her eyes. She hazily gazed at Lily, who was holding Althea's towels and dressing gown. _Let me sleep_, she thought, looking from the towels and dressing gown to Lily. _My only comfort comes in sleep_.

"I'm not going to class," Althea explained quietly and folded her arms. "Now, give me back my blankets."

"No," Lily demanded and threw the towels at Althea, "you're going to class."

Althea angrily threw the towels on the floor. Lily did not understand—Althea wanted to be alone. She did not want sympathy or apologetic looks as she entered the Great Hall. She did not want to be whispered about as other students had done for the other three. She spent two hours on Sunday imagining the scenario of breakfast in the Great Hall. She would enter, with a stoic look, amid the stares and whispers as she walked to her seat. Those around her would attempt to say something kind while awkwardness permeated every kind word, or they would choose to ignore her—the awkwardness overwhelming. In class, her professors would give her sympathetic or thoughtful looks as they handed her back her papers, and at the end of class, would talk to her privately about how sorry they were at her father's untimely passing. She couldn't stand it. She wanted to be alone.

"If you don't get out of bed and go to class…_your Gran wins_," Lily said, folding her arms.

"What do you mean _my Gran wins_?" Althea huffed, not moving from her bed.

"If you stay in bed, you'll flunk out of Hogwarts. Then, you'll have to go to Muggle school—no choices then," she said and threw Althea's dressing gown at her face. "Now get up."

Althea caught it and threw it to the ground. "Can't I have time to grieve?"

Lily sighed and frowned. "Althea, you can grieve, but what you are doing—it's not healthy," she said softly and sat at the end of Althea's bed. "I'm worried about you…the others are worried about you."

Althea laughed out of disgust. "Tell them not to worry. I'm not their problem."

Lily took her wand from her robe pocket. "That is it!" she yelled out of frustration and pointed her wand at Althea. "You are going to class!"

Althea eyed her friend warily. "What are you going to do? Hex me into going to class?" she smirked and folded her arms.

"Better," Lily said.

With a swish of Lily's wand, Althea found herself suspended over her bed. Lily had picked up Althea's towel and dressing gown, and with slight movements of her wand, drifted her toward the fifth-year bath. _Why do I have the best friend that's bloody fantastic at charms_, she thought, flailing her arms in the air.

"Put me down!" Althea shrieked as she frantically waved her arms and legs.

"Not yet," Lily replied determined—her wand guiding Althea into the fifth-year bath. "Okay, now," she said and let down her wand.

Althea screamed as she fell into the bath of cold, soapy water. Unexpectedly she felt Lily scrubbing her head with shampoo. _Cold? She could have at least warmed it_, she thought, shivering as Lily continued to scrub Althea's scalp. _What did I ever do to deserve this? My father died and she's treating me like a child_!

"I can do this bit myself," she explained angrily, pulling her knees to her chest as she started to shiver.

"Can you?" Lily replied cheekily, and dunked Althea's head under the cold bathwater.

Althea took a deep breath as she surfaced, and her teeth began to chatter. "I w-won't f-f-forge-get th-this," she said as Lily poured conditioner on her head.

"I know," Lily said as she massaged the creamy conditioner that smelled of lilacs into Althea's scalp. "You'd do the same for me…. I love you."

Althea straightened in the bathtub. Lily loved her. Not everyone that loved Althea and that Althea loved were gone—she had Lily. Lily sniffed and stopped massaging Althea's scalp. She tapped the side of the bathtub, and Althea felt the water warm to a pleasant temperature.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Lily said, her voice slightly shaky. "I'd be lost without you."

"No, you wouldn't," Althea replied soberly and Lily poured water over her head. "You're very popular—don't argue—and have more friends than I do."

Althea held her breath and closed her eyes as the warm water poured over the top of her head. Opening her eyes, she wiped the wet hair away from her eyes and blinked rapidly. Lily lost without her? How could that be? Lily was the strongest person Althea knew, and Lily's vulnerability made her uneasy. To Althea, Lily was everything Althea ought to be…and Althea continued to fail miserably at it.

"I would!" she said sharply. "Whom would I complain to about Slughorn's invitations? He thinks I'm cheeky when all I'm doing is telling him to sod off!"

"Jane."

"You and I know that Jane is too consumed with her undying love for Black—"

Althea felt her neck and shoulders prickle with warmth. She knew Lily saw.

"—and wouldn't listen," Lily finished—Althea grateful for Lily's tact. "You know," she said slowly, handing Althea a bar of lavender-smelling soap, "she still asks me if you told me what Black looks like naked."

The soap slipped from Althea's hand, but she quickly caught it—the soapy water splashing into her eyes. Lily giggled as Althea roughly lathered her arm.

"He had a towel," she replied through clenched teeth.

"Pity," Lily sighed. "We could've told Jane he uses an Engorgement Charm, and in the meantime, wager on her reaction."

"He doesn't need an Engorgement Charm," Althea muttered and gasped at what she said.

Lily laughed loudly—her laughter echoing throughout the bathroom. Althea covered her face with her hands, sinking lower in the bathtub—her skin becoming increasingly hot.

"Oh, I didn't mean that!" she said, mortified. "What I meant to say," she continued, and did not dare remove her hands from her face, "was he is the fantastic and wonderful Sirius Black, and therefore, in all of his arrogance he does not need an Engorgement Charm."

Lily snorted quietly as she attempted to stifle her laughter. "Liar," she laughed. "You want to see him naked just like the rest of us."

Althea quickly sat up and turned to face Lily—her lips upturned into an impish grin. "Us?" she asked with great interest. "Miss Lily Evans, Gryffindor Prefect and bane of Sirius Black's mischievous existence, includes herself in the gaggle of silly girls that would like to see him naked? Shameful and shocking, indeed. I'll owl your mother."

Lily playfully narrowed her eyes. "I'll nick school parchment, forge McGonagall's handwriting, and write Gran detailing your love of wrestling naked boys—especially one Sirius Black."

"Ha!" Althea laughed, pointing a triumphant finger. "Gran doesn't know who Sirius Black is!"

Lily leaned closer and casually said, "It's still a boy."

"Bugger," she murmured, defeated.

Lily rested her hand atop Althea's hand. "Admit it, it would be bloody hilarious if a rumor spread about a random student entering the boys' loo to hear Black mutter an Engorgement Charm—"

"You've thought about this, haven't you?" she asked and smiled with disbelief. "If only McGonagall and Dumbledore knew how truly naughty you were."

"He mimicked you again," Lily replied solemnly. "Jane said it was spot on…. She told me last night as you slept."

Althea suddenly felt a chill and shivered. Could he? A knot developed in her stomach at the possibility Sirius had entertained fellow students with an impersonation of her from two nights before. He had been so kind…noble even. Had he betrayed her confidence?

"What—what did he do?" she asked cautiously.

Lily rolled her eyes with disgust. "Two weeks ago, Black crumpled two rolls of parchment, placed them inside his shirt, and mimicked you from Transfiguration class," she explained, and hesitated a moment before continuing, "and after, he charged a Knut to touch them."

Any feelings of goodwill toward Sirius from two nights previous quickly faded. Althea shyly pulled her long, black hair forward to cover herself.

"An Engorgement Charm is too kind," Althea sneered. "Worse than last week when he coaxed the Fat Lady to change the password to, 'Black is Brilliant.'"

"You're forgetting he had a special password for you, 'I fancy Sirius Black.'"

"I didn't forget," she muttered and rolled her eyes. "Had Pettigrew stationed on the other side of the portrait so no one would open it for me. Potter outside, forcing everyone to enter single file…and Black stood there—grinning—so pleased with himself."

Lily snickered and quickly covered her mouth.

"It isn't funny," Althea replied, feeling her mouth twitch. "Right, it is a bit funny."

"A bit?" she laughed, her lips curving into an amused smile. "You threatened sleeping in the corridor."

"He said that he wouldn't leave until I said it," she replied plainly, allowing herself to smile, "and I wasn't about to say it. It's his own stupid fault for not fully thinking his fantastic schemes through."

"You had to say it though—"

"Because you brought McGonagall—"

"Were you really prepared to sleep in the corridor?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Althea laughed, leaning back. "I wouldn't have been forced to say it!"

"You didn't say it, you _shouted_ it—"

"Because Black said, 'What's that? I don't think the Fat lady heard you?'" she finished, impersonating Sirius and folding her arms. "Oh, that obnoxious laugh of his!"

"McGonagall did punish him," Lily reminded and frowned before she added, "the obnoxious git."

Althea sighed deeply. "Why must we have the stupidest boys in all of Hogwarts in our year and in our House?"

"Lupin's not stupid," Lily replied in a singsong voice. Lily squealed and held up her hands as Althea splashed soapy water at her. "Right, stop!" she laughed, and mischievously muttered a charm—the water flowing from her wand tip in a graceful arch and splashing atop Althea's head.

"'Brilliant, Miss Evans! Ten points to Gryffindor!'" Althea said, horribly mimicking Flitwick. "Lily…Lily, you can stop."

"Scowl like Black because he didn't receive the points first," she demanded eagerly.

Althea did her best impersonation of Sirius's "I'm too bored to really care, but you are still beneath me" stare.

"Spot on," Lily breathed appreciatively and the flow of water stopped. "I don't understand how he managed Gryffindor," she wondered, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows.

"At lunch, tell him that he's a coward," she remarked and winked. "I've only managed 'cow.' It's amazing how easy it is to anger him."

"I've called him many things, but he shrugs them off," she replied thoughtfully.

"That's because you're Potter's—"

"_Don't_ even say it!" she warned, sitting higher. Lily's eyes widened and she pointed her wand at Althea as she spoke, "_Don't_ even think it!"

Althea leaned forward, smiling wickedly. "You don't think he's that awful, do you?" she asked with feigned innocence. "His hexes and jinxes of Snape and first-years are just tokens of love, Lily…_tokens of love_."

"Have Jane call Black a coward and then use that 'tokens of love' bit with her," she replied, tapping her finger against the edge of the bathtub for emphasis, "because, according to your reasoning, Black is unequivocally, madly in love with—"

Althea covered her ears.

"—_you_."

"He fancies blondes," she replied, grasping the towel at the side of the bathtub.

Althea stood and wrapped a soft, lavender-colored towel around her torso. She wrapped another towel around her head and slipped on her dressing gown.

"Why isn't he dating Jane, then?" Lily asked, standing. "She's his type and she's in Gryffindor."

Althea sat on the squashy-cushioned, pink stool, and began to comb her long hair. "He took her to Winter Fête, didn't he?" she reminded and frowned at the abnormally large knot in her hair.

"And he left immediately after dancing with you," Lily reminded, leaning against the dressing table. "He's acted strangely toward you all year…. I don't trust him. Not now—"

"That my father died," she finished, frowning deeply. "You're afraid he'll take advantage of me, aren't you?"

Lily nodded.

"Not going to happen," she said, brushing out a very persistent tangle—almost too vigorously. "I have to admit he's too smart for that."

_Unfortunately_, she thought, her scalp sore from pulling, _I believe it's already starting_.

"I was the one that placed the package on your bed."

Althea's hand slipped and the bristles of the brush tangled in her hair.

"Black gave me the package," she explained, resting her hands behind her on the dressing table. "He was upset."

Althea frowned as she slowly untangled the brush from her hair. "He was?"

Lily nodded. "I refused, but he said I _had_ to give you the package," she said, bemused, crossing her legs at the ankles. "Then…yesterday, he asked about you."

"About me?" she asked and laughed nervously. "What for?"

"If you were all right," she answered distantly—Althea knew she was thinking. "He asked me last night—cornered me the common room…he was very concerned. I told it him that it wasn't his business—"

"Of course, it isn't—"

"—and he seemed…hurt."

"Hurt?" she murmured and stopped brushing her hair.

"Yeah," she said, hopping up onto the dressing table. Lily absentmindedly swung her legs against the dressing table as she said thoughtfully, "I think he fancies you."

"You're joking," she said incredulously, narrowing her eyes. "Black fancy me?" she remarked, pointing with her brush toward her chest. "Likely."

"It's disturbing," she remarked quietly, taking a lipstick off the table.

"It is."

Lily uncapped and capped the lipstick. "May I?" she asked, holding up the lipstick.

"Yeah."

Althea frowned as she searched for the words to tell Lily what Sirius had done for her two days ago. _He doesn't fancy me_, she thought, placing the brush on the dressing table, _he was being nice_. Althea cringed at thinking Sirius could ever be "nice" to her. No, he felt sorry for her. The thought that Sirius pitied her was far worse than the thought of his kindness, and she quickly wanted to forget both thoughts.

"Lily, he doesn't fancy me," she said and anxiously chewed her bottom lip. "He found me after I read the letter about my father's death."

"I know," she replied, placing the lipstick on the dressing table, "but I still think—"

"He _doesn't_," she said firmly, standing. "He doesn't, all right?"

Althea dressed and followed Lily to the common room. Thankfully, the common room was abandoned and she could discreetly leave Gryffindor Tower. Althea and Lily skipped breakfast and immediately went to the classroom to prepare for Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As odd as it seemed, Althea felt it would be easier to handle fifth-year Slytherins during Defense Against the Dark Arts than the stares of the entire Hogwarts student body at breakfast.

Lily had cheered up Althea during her bath, but upon entering the classroom, the sadness returned. No, the Slytherins would be too much for her—she needed the comfort of her bed.

"I don't know if I can do this," Althea said quietly as she stared at the blank blackboard.

"You can," Lily said reassuringly. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

Althea shook her head. "I don't feel that strong."

Lily rested her hand on Althea's back. "You can't let your Gran win. I won't let you," she responded and patted Althea's back.

Althea attempted to laugh. "Now I'm not surprised why Gran protests every time you come over during holiday," she said and tried to smile.

Althea heard loud laughing and voices from outside the classroom door and turned to see who would enter. Peter shrilly laughed with delight at as James made a fantastic catch of the Snitch over the last row of desks. _One day he's going to lose the Snitch_, she thought as she watched James stuff the Snitch in his pocket, _then Hooch will have his head_. James smiled at Althea as he patted his pocket.

"Morning, Morrigan," James said as he sat behind Lily.

Lily sighed with disgust.

"Good morning," Althea replied quietly and mustered a feeble smile.

Althea shifted her eyes toward Sirius, who folded his arms as he leaned back in his chair and winked at her. _I hope he doesn't mention anything about the other night_, she thought as she turned to face the blackboard. _I know he'd love to use it against me…but I have something against him_. He had spoken so openly with her about his family, that thinking about it now, it was still very awkward. Lily was right—Sirius was acting strangely toward her. When did he start smiling at her? Althea did not dare turn her head to see if he was still looking at her—she could feel it.

"Good morning, Althea," Remus said quietly as he sat next to her.

"Oh, good morning," she replied and smiled weakly as she turned to face him. "Sorry, I didn't meet with you the other day, I—"

"Don't worry," Remus interrupted, as he looked into his schoolbag, "I bookmarked the pages so you could find them," he continued as he took the book from his schoolbag.

"Thank you," she replied as Remus handed her the book. Althea flipped through the pages of the book; she was amazed the Remus would take the time to mark the pages for her. "This must have taken a long time," she commented with a tinge of embarrassment, closing the book.

"It didn't take that long," he replied and blushed slightly. "I had help."

"Oh," she murmured as she thought of a person that would help Remus with Arithmancy. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she realized whom it could have been. "_Oh_," she continued knowingly and Remus smiled uncomfortably.

Unexpectedly, Althea heard the shrill laughter from Peter, and then outright laughter from James and Sirius. Remus, looking over her shoulder, began to laugh as well. She quickly turned to see what the boys were laughing at—Snape, his long, stringy, greasy hair the color of bright orange, had entered the classroom. Snape, with his head bent and permanent scowl across his face, walked to the other side of the room and sat down. Althea bit her lip to hide her laughter, and looked at Lily, who frowned deeply.

Althea promptly turned to face Sirius and James, the two still laughing. "What did you two do?"

"Why do you automatically assume it was us?" Sirius asked, but Althea could tell by the twinkle in his eye he was impressed by his own work.

"Really," James sighed and folded his arms. "It could have been Evans for all you know," he added and motioned at Lily in front of him.

"I'm not that childish," Lily said, quickly turning to face James. "I stopped pulling pranks when I was eleven."

Althea saw Sirius wanted to respond, but was prevented by James nudging his side.

"Having your boyfriend do your dirty work?"

"My _what_?" Althea asked, bewildered, turning around to face Snape, who stood on the other side of her desk.

Sirius leapt over his desk and Althea jolted forward. "You leave her alone!" he growled, his wand pointed at Snape's large, hooked nose.

Althea sank lower in her seat, covering her eyes with her hands. _It was definitely not a good idea to come to class today_, she thought as she massaged her right temple.

"_Me_?" Snape sneered and pulled something from his robe pocket. "You and that _Potter_—taking all the _Daily Prophets_—"

Sirius violently grabbed Snape by the robes. "You leave your greasy nose out of other people's business!" he roared and threw Snape back toward his side of the room.

Snape landed with a loud _thud_ against the stone floor, and Althea gasped, horrified at what just transpired. What was in the _Daily Prophet_? Althea glanced at her desktop and noticed that Snape had left a piece of paper on her desk. _Is this the article Snape mentioned_, she wondered, eyeing the piece of paper apprehensively. She went to retrieve it; however, Sirius quickly snatched the paper before her, and shoved the paper and his wand in his robe pocket.

Sirius quietly returned to his seat as the rest of the Slytherins, and the always-late Jane, entered the classroom. Jane took her seat behind Sirius, and returned to what she did best—stare longingly at him. Shaking her head, Althea looked toward the Slytherins, and covered her mouth to stifle her laughter at the sight of them; a few of the Slytherins had purple polka dot covered faces, pink or orange hair, or—like Lesley Aaron—both. Did James and Sirius do this for her? More important, why did they do this for her? Althea could not help but appreciate the immature gesture.

"Eck, now my hands are covered in grease!" Sirius said, pulling a face and holding out his hands. "Here, Peter," he added and wiped his hands on Peter's sleeve.

"Don't wipe it on me!" Peter whined, staring at his soiled sleeve with repulsion.

"Where else was I supposed to wipe it?" Sirius explained and folded his arms.

Althea saw Peter frown.

"Mr. Black, please start paying attention in my class," Professor Erlenmeyer said tersely, as he sauntered up the aisle between the Slytherin and Gryffindor desks.

Althea turned to face the blackboard and heard Sirius mutter something about Professor Erlenmeyer and some indiscretion with a hippogriff and a bottle of Firewhiskey. Althea started to snicker and Lily nudged her arm. At twenty-five, Professor Erlenmeyer was the youngest of the Hogwarts faculty—and according to a few of the female students—the most handsome. Althea had to agree that Erlenmeyer was handsome, but his glorious attributes stopped there. Yes, he was dashing, but he was condescending and cruel—outweighing any positive qualities. The male students despised Erlenmeyer—most of all Sirius. Perhaps Sirius saw Erlenmeyer as competition for the affections of female students. She missed their old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but Professor Thaddeus had mysteriously disappeared in December.

Althea noticed that Erlenmeyer had finished marking their essays on the vampires of Eastern Europe. It was a tedious essay and Althea loathed every minute of writing it. Erlenmeyer, of course, was the expert of Eastern European vampires, and Althea knew, anything the students would write from their textbooks would be marked on the contrary. He had his own ideas on vampires and on other Dark creatures in general, and she found it very difficult to hold her tongue and not to ask what would _he_ like because the textbooks were obviously wrong. She felt—embarrassingly so—a small solidarity in this venture, for Sirius would ask and promptly receive detention. Althea bit her lip as not to sigh with frustration as Erlenmeyer threatened and muttered under his breath that the students should order new books for the rest of the school year. Holding the parchments casually, Professor Erlenmeyer started to return the marked essays to the Slytherins, commenting as he handed the essay back to the individual.

"Ms. Aaron, please on your next essay, attempt to write more than three paragraphs," he said, handing a thin parchment back to an angry Lesley Aaron.

Althea observed Lesley flash her a nasty grin, and Althea raised an eyebrow. She was the worst of the Slytherin fifth-year girls—under the tutelage of Bellatrix, and then Narcissa and the older Slytherin girls. She was horrible because she taunted Lily, and to Althea, no one taunted Lily. Lily never seemed to care though, the words and taunts never seemed to affect her they way they affected Althea.

"Ah, Mr. Snape, I asked for a essay—not a thesis. Please be more concise next time…Eastern Europe isn't that enormous."

Althea heard Sirius laugh loudly behind her and she turned to face him. Erlenmeyer quickly turned his attention toward Sirius. Sirius eyed Erlenmeyer with a distinct air of boredom.

"Mr. Black, you should spend less time admiring the opposite sex, and more time writing your essays," he said smoothly and Sirius roughly grabbed his parchment, "or I should say, spending your parents' money on a better essay writer. It was nauseating."

"Berk," Sirius muttered angrily.

"Mr. Potter, you've surprised me this time. I see you've spent more time on your essay than on the Quidditch pitch," he said and laughed to himself.

Some of the Slytherins laughed as well.

"Git," James growled under his breath.

"Ms. Evans, stop trying so hard," he added as he handed Lily her essay. "Dull, but correct."

Lily rolled her eyes.

Althea's stomach somersaulted and twisted into tight knots. She hated his comments on her essays; it was embarrassing and almost to the point of being unbearable. Althea took a slow, steady breath of air as he approached her. Althea noticed Lesley and a few of the Slytherins with pink or orange hair and polka dot faces looked at the upcoming exchange with eager anticipation.

"Miss Morrigan," he said his voice changing—softer and less cutting. "A beautifully written piece," he added pleasantly, handing her the parchment—his dark blue eyes sparkling.

Althea felt nauseated.

"I'm looking forward to your next essay."

"Oh, bloody hell," she murmured and felt Lily reproachfully nudge her in the side.

Althea wished the chair would absorb her. _Sycophantic twit_, she thought, taking the parchment from him. _My father's dead and he laughed at your manuscripts_. To her mortification, Erlenmeyer had read her father's book on werewolves and the current and future problems the Wizarding society brought upon itself with its prejudices. Erlenmeyer smugly thought he knew what to do with what he said was "the werewolf problem." She had no choice but to owl her father the manuscripts—she included a letter apologizing for the author's stupidity. _Called you 'a remarkable idiot' for thinking he would agree with your idea of werewolf containment camps…. What's this_, she thought as a piece of paper slipped out of her rolled homework.

Althea carefully picked up the folded piece of paper and unfolded it. _This is a page from the_ Daily Prophet, she thought as she scanned the front page. Toward the bottom of the page, Althea made a terrible discovery:

**Controversial Author ****Daniel Morrigan**** Dies Mysteriously**

However, her father's name was crossed out and the word _Mudblood_ was replaced, and across the article describing in gruesome detail her father's death were the words:

_You're next Muckblood._

It felt as if the blood leached from her face and slowly seeped down to her abdomen. _I can't—I can't handle this_, she thought, blinking her eyes. _I need to go_. Blankly staring at the blackboard, Althea placed the article on her desk, and slowly stood from her chair.

"Miss Morrigan, are you all right?" Erlenmeyer asked as Althea passed Lily and started to walk down the center aisle.

Althea mustered an inaudible grunting noise and continued toward the classroom door.

"Althea," Lily said and grabbed her arm. "What—what's wrong?"

Althea looked into Lily's eyes and then pointed at the article on her desk. "My father was blown up," she said her voice strained. "An arm…blood everywhere."

Lily's eyes began to water. "Oh, no," she whispered, shaking her head. "No."

Althea pried Lily's arm from hers and walked toward the door. She did not pay attention to the commotion that erupted behind her. Slowly, she turned the cold doorknob and pulled the heavy door open. Where was she going? It did not matter. As she walked, she pulled her wand from her robe pocket. _So, this is what killed my father_, she thought as she examined her wand. She held the wand in her delicate hand and examined the wand from every angle. Without any thought, she shrugged her shoulders and threw the wand over her shoulder. _Stupid stick_, she thought as she heard it clink and rattle along the stone floor. _Worthless wool robe_, she thought as she continued to walk up the staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. She took off her robe and watched it as it fell and somersaulted down three flights of stairs.

"I've always hated this damn tie," she said to herself, as she vigorously undid her tie and dropped it at her side. "And I hate this sweater," she added as she pulled the grey sweater over her head. "Oh, and this shirt," she said and quickly unbuttoned her shirt. "Oh, and I can't forget about this skirt," she finished, and shimmied the skirt to her ankles and with a great kick, kicked the skirt high into the air.

Next, Althea took off her shoes and knee socks and flung them as far as she could—in possible hope of breaking or hurting something.

"Loads better," she sighed, and continued to walk toward the Fat Lady's portrait. "_Ursa major_," she said as the Fat Lady raised an eyebrow at Althea's appearance.

Althea walked through the portrait, through the common room, and up the girls' dormitory steps. What was she going to do? Perhaps her Gran was right—maybe she should attend a Muggle school. The students would not care that her father was Muggle-born there—they would not even know what Muggle-born meant. She could blend in there—or at least attempt to blend in there. She would be Lady Althea—well respected and well liked by Muggles. However, what if she couldn't blend in? What if she was forever known as the creepy girl that no one wanted to talk to because strange things happened around her? Or the odd girl that everyone felt sorry for? She sighed; no matter where she went, she was not welcome. She was underage. She couldn't become a full witch—she couldn't become a full Muggle either. Althea lay on her bed with the blankets underneath her chin and her curtains closed. She had to decide what to do with all of her Wizarding belongings. _I'll give Lily all my spell books_, she thought as she stared at the scarlet curtains. _Actually, I think I'll give Lily everything…Well, almost everything. I think I'll give Jane some things_.

"Althea?" Lily said quietly from the other side of the curtains.

Althea did not respond.

She was angry with Lily for she forced Althea to go to class. From someone's cruel joke, Althea discovered the circumstances of her father's death from an article in the Daily Prophet. He was captured, tortured with an Unforgivable Curse the article refused to mention, and murdered—his blood splattered against the walls, and in a pool of blood, his arm. Now she understood why her Gran refused her to attend the funeral—no child should see her parent murdered. Althea tightened the blankets under chin. Did her father think of her as the perpetrators pointed their wands at him to torture him? She thought of her father at first fighting them off, but shook her head knowingly—she never imagined him a dueler.

"Althea?" Lily repeated her voice shaky. "Althea, please, I'm sorry."

"I suppose it's going to make everything better," Althea replied bitterly.

"No, it won't," Lily said and pulled back the curtain.

Althea noticed that half of Lily's hair was blue.

"I—I didn't know about the _Daily Prophet_," she added as she sat down on Althea's bed.

"How could you not? You read the _Daily Prophet_ every morning. You love laughing at it."

Lily sighed and sniffed back tears. "I didn't get one today. No one did," she said quietly. "Lupin saw the article and alerted Dumbledore."

"He did?"

Lily nodded. "Potter, Black, and a couple other Gryffindors confiscated the ones that did get through," she said and rested her hand on Althea's hand.

"Well, they didn't do a very good job," she muttered resentfully, roughly removing her hand from underneath Lily's hand.

"They did the best they could," she replied and frowned. "The students that did refuse—well—you saw Potter and Black's ultimatum."

"Obviously someone kept it," she remarked darkly and looked at Lily's reaction.

Lily lowered her head.

"You know who kept it, don't you?"

Lily sighed. "It was Black's brother—payback for your comment to his cousin earlier this year," she answered with a slight bit of anger. "Of course, Potter and Black think Snape had something to do with it, but I don't think he's that vicious…not to you at least."

Althea covered her face with her hands. "No," she replied, rubbing her eyes. "His idiot brother…. Oh, I'll hex him into oblivion!" she added furiously, and forcefully pounded her fists against her mattress.

"No, don't Althea. Let Black do it," Lily said pleadingly. "He'll enjoy harming his brother…. He did a particularly gruesome hex when he discovered it was his brother. It was scary."

Althea closed her eyes. "Fine."

She imagined the satisfaction of repeatedly punching Regulus's face, but then felt greater satisfaction at Sirius repeatedly hexing his brother. Sirius's hexes were often nasty. Althea opened her eyes and again noticed Lily's partially blue hair.

"What—what happened?" she asked, pointing to Lily's hair.

Lily looked at her blue hair and smiled. "Oh this? What a juvenile charm," she remarked, and with her wand changed her hair to its normal color. "At least Potter and Black's charms last for a few days. Some Slytherin fifth-year blasted me with it," she added and smiled.

Althea sat up from her bed. "So that was what the commotion was about that I heard as I was leaving?"

"Yes, dueling and everything."

Althea's eyes grew wide. "Miss Perfect Prefect Lily? You were involved in some dueling?" she asked in amazement and Lily nodded. "I see you're on the better end."

"I left before it ended."

"Wait, it's still happening?" Althea asked eagerly and leaned closer to Lily.

"I don't know," Lily said and bit her lip. "Jane stayed though—she hid under the table," she added and laughed to herself. "Jane would trip the Slytherins and Pettigrew cursed them when they fell."

Althea laughed—which surprised her. "Why am I not surprised? She's scared to use her own wand," she replied and stood from her bed. "I suppose Black and Potter were beside themselves with glee—what?"

Lily's mouth opened in shock. "Where—where are your clothes? You didn't walk back to Gryffindor Tower in your slip?"

Althea sighed. "As a matter of fact I did," she replied plainly, as she took a black skirt and purple sweater from her chest of drawers.

Althea slipped on her skirt as Lily spoke, "Those are your things in the corridor and on the steps?"

"Yeah," Althea said as she pulled the sweater over her head. "I left my wand somewhere."

"You left your wand? Althea, you're not acting right," Lily said, standing.

"How am I supposed to act? I just found out that my daddy was tortured before he was murdered…murdered," Althea explained and rested her hands on her hips. "It's not fair, Lily," she added quietly as tears formed in her eyes.

Lily wrapped her arms around her friend. "It isn't," she whispered, holding Althea tightly.

Althea pulled away from Lily and wiped her eyes. "No, no. I'm absolutely sick of crying. I'm too tired to cry," she said as she sniffed back tears. "Anyway, how were the rest of our classmates fairing in the commotion?" she asked, wanting to change the subject. "I have a wonderful image of Martha kicking Aaron in the shins."

Lily noticed the cue. "I'm not sure," she said and bit her lip. "We could go and see if anyone is expelled yet."

"If anyone's getting expelled—it's me," Althea replied as she headed for the door. "I started a riot."

Althea and Lily collected Althea's clothes on the way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and luckily, Althea found her wand where she left it—in the hall that led to the classroom. The two approached the classroom and found McGonagall and Dumbledore inside. The damage to the classroom was not as extensive as she thought. Althea had imagined unconscious students scattered throughout the classroom—on tables and under desks. The classroom was empty—except for McGonagall and Dumbledore—and a few scattered papers, books, and inkbottles. Althea took a deep breath as she entered the classroom. She would take responsibility for everything. She would be the one expelled.

"Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, it's my fault," Althea said meekly as she approached the pair.

"Your fault?" McGonagall asked incredulously.

Althea took in a deep gulp of air. "The article—from the _Daily Prophet_. It was in my essay," she began—her palms sweating. "I—I don't have it, but someone wrote, 'Mudblood,' over my father's name and, 'you're next Muckblood,' over the article," she finished, wiping her hands on her skirt. "I left the room as the commotion began."

"I don't doubt that, Althea, but you're not to blame," Dumbledore said as he held the article in his hand. "I thought we could save you from the details of your father's death; however, I was sadly mistaken. The _Prophet_ finds these salacious sorts of details sell papers. It is my responsibility and I am sorry, Althea."

Althea took a step backward. Dumbledore was taking full responsibility? _As well he should_, she thought as she scuffed the floor with her shoe. _He won't tell me why they died_.

"Sir, where are—"

"The others," Dumbledore finished. "In Madam Pomfrey's care, and yes, you may go and see them."

"Thank you, sir," Althea muttered, looking at her shoes. "I don't deserve this."

The two girls hastily walked to the hospital wing to find every bed occupied by a Slytherin or Gryffindor fifth-year. She would have a party for all Gryffindor fifth-years over Easter Holiday. A small smile emerged across Althea's face as she scanned the room—the Slytherins by far were in worse shape. A few of them were bald, had turnips for ears, elongated teeth, enlarged ears, or—to complement the polka dots—stripes. As she walked by, Althea felt the glaring eyes of the Slytherins. She thought she heard Snape mutter something, but she could not understand him due to her enormous front teeth. The Gryffindors occupied the rest of the beds. Jane and Peter had only a few bumps, but Remus, James, and Sirius were bruised and bloodied. Althea wondered what types of hexes the Slytherins had used to draw blood.

Althea rushed to the edge of Remus's bed. "Remus, are you all right?"

Althea was shocked by Remus's behavior in the classroom. _Remus dueling…I don't believe it_, she thought, looking at the large gash above Remus's right eyebrow. She had never known Remus to fight actively, but he had. _He probably had no other choice but to defend himself_, she thought, looking from the gash above his eyebrow to the bruise on his chin.

"I'm fine, but how are you?" he asked, smoothing the hair to cover the gash above his eyebrow.

"Terrible, but you're the one in the hospital wing," she answered and gently patted his bandaged hand.

Remus developed a small smile. "I've been worse," he whispered and winked.

"Thank you, for what you did today," she said quietly, slipping her arms around his neck. "Lily told me that you alerted Dumbledore. Thank you."

Remus held her tightly. "I would do anything for you," he whispered in her ear.

Small, stinging tears began to well in her eyes. _Don't start crying Althea_, she thought as she kissed him on the cheek.

"What about us?" James asked as Althea pulled away from Remus.

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes as she looked at James, who smiled and winked.

"Come on, we helped, too," he said, grinning and pointing to his cheek.

Althea sat on James's bed, and he feigned a ridiculous groan, which caused her to laugh. "Potter, I know about you and Black confiscating the _Daily Prophets_. Thank you," she said and kissed him on the cheek.

"No problem, Morrigan. We'd do it again, even," he said and ruffled the back of his hair. "It gave us the opportunity to try out a few new spells." He looked over at the Slytherins in the hospital wing, and Althea knew he was looking at Snape.

"The orange hair is a definite improvement for Snape," she whispered and smiled.

"You're welcome. The orange color was Sirius's idea," James said proudly and looked toward Sirius's bed. "Oi, Padfoot, visitor."

Althea looked over at the bed next to James. Sirius had the blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, with only the top of his black hair visible. She walked over to his bedside and sat on the edge of the bed. _I'm about to thank Black? I don't believe this_, she thought, as she was about to place her hand on his shoulder, but thought better of it. She never thought she would be thanking Sirius for defending her. The night on the grounds, the box for transformation, confiscating the _Daily Prophets_, and the Slytherin duel—what was Sirius up to? _Maybe he still feels guilty for almost drowning me_, she thought as she slowly pulled the blanket away from his head, _or he could fancy me as Lily believes_. Althea felt slightly queasy.

"Black?" Althea whispered as she slowly removed the blanket. "Black?"

Sirius grunted and turned tightly on his side as not to face her.

"Black, come on," Althea whispered as she tugged at the blanket. "I wanted to thank you," she whispered into his ear. "It might be the only time you ever hear me thank you. You'd like to remember it…wouldn't you?"

Suddenly, Sirius began to shift and awkwardly he sat up, and her head jolted back at the sight of him. His arm was broken and in a sling, and his face had a half-inch wide gash that ran from his chin up to his temple.

"Are you all right?" she whispered with concern, and Sirius nodded somberly. "How did this happen?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Snivellus," he replied bitterly, looking in the direction of Snape.

"Oh my!" she gasped and covered her mouth. "How—what did he do?"

Sirius frowned and shifted in the bed. "It's not important," he muttered and winced from the pain. "I flew into a cabinet—that's all…. The coward cursed me from behind," he explained and winced again. "A Dark spell, too."

"How awful," she murmured, furrowing her eyebrows. "Are you all right? Do you need anything?" she asked, and helped him in attempt to make him more comfortable as he labored to move in the hospital bed.

"No, don't worry about it," he muttered, refusing to look at her.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, you shouldn't have done that. It's my entire fault," she said quietly and lowered her head. "I should have confronted them. Not you, not Potter, not Remus—I should have."

"No, what they did was wrong," Sirius said plainly, resting his good hand on her forearm. "No part of it is your fault."

"But look at you," she said and bit her lip, "you're hurt."

"Don't worry about me, right," he said with forced cheerfulness as he gritted his teeth from pain.

Althea sniffed back tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, as she ran her fingertips underneath the gash from his temple to his chin.

With his good arm, Sirius gently took her hand from his face and held it in his. "Please, we're more concerned about you," he said quietly, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her hand.

"Thanks," Althea whispered and kissed Sirius on the cheek.

Sirius tightly wrapped his good arm around her. Althea's heart skipped as she felt Sirius's lips against her cheek.


	16. Hogwarts, December 1993

**Hogwarts, December 1993**

Althea gave a disappointed sigh as she examined herself in her dressing table mirror. _I am getting old_, she thought as she examined her under eye closely. She squinted her eyes to accentuate the fine lines. She took her gaze from her under eye to the roots of her hair. A single grey hair stood sentinel among thousands of raven strands. She sat down in front of her dressing table and began to comb her shoulder length hair. _Is thirty-three too young to have grey hair_, she thought and placed the comb back on the dressing table next to a silver picture frame. Althea picked up the picture frame and held it carefully in her hands. Her fingers lovingly stroked the glass covering the photograph, which was photographed in the last month of her seventh-year at Hogwarts. It was a beautiful afternoon when the photograph was taken. She longingly gazed at the photograph with a bittersweet smile as Sirius winked and smiled back at her, and a younger, smiling version of herself knelt behind him with her arms around his neck. Next to Sirius sat James with Lily mimicking Althea. _God, how I miss you, Lily_, she thought as she placed the picture frame on the dressing table. _It should have been me, not you_. She continued to look at the photograph and shivered as the young Althea kissed Sirius's cheek. _He couldn't possibly have been a Death Eater…could he? If anyone should have known, it should have been me_, she thought as she stood and walked to her bed.

Althea pulled back the plush burgundy blankets covering her bed and slowly slid underneath them. Resting her head against her soft pillow, she thought more about Sirius. Why had he waited twelve years to escape? What did he want? Did he really want to hurt Harry? She remembered the day Harry was born. He was just as excited and happy as James was as he saw the newborn Harry. He loved Harry, and took his role as godfather seriously. What had changed?

A knock at her door jolted Althea from her thoughts. "Just a moment," she said loudly as she sat up from her bed and reached for her dressing gown. Althea opened the door and smiled. "Remus," she said happily. "Come in."

"I'm sorry. Am I bothering you?" Remus asked as he stepped through her doorway.

"No, no," she replied as she stifled a yawn as she walked toward her bed. "You're always welcome," she added as she patted the edge of her bed. "Please, sit."

"Thanks," he said as he sat next to her. "I, unfortunately, have terrible news."

"What? Is there something wrong? Is everything all right?" she asked, resting her hands on his forearm.

Remus smiled warmly as he rubbed his chin. "It's nothing like that. I just can't spend Christmas with you and Gran," he said and sighed longingly. "It's that damn full moon again."

Althea frowned from disappointment. _Stupid full moon_, she thought, _why must it ruin our Christmas_? She was anticipating Christmas with Remus, as it would be their first Christmas together in a few years.

"Oh!" she gasped, realizing that she did not have to cancel her Christmas plans. "I'll tell Gran I won't come. I'll stay here with you, then," she said brightly, stroking his arm. "You won't be alone."

"No, really. I'll be fine," he said reassuringly, placing his hand over hers. "I have to catch up on things around here anyway," he continued and sighed sadly. "You shouldn't cancel your plans—Afina would be devastated."

Althea studied her friend for a moment. She knew Remus well enough to know that he was not fine. She knew that loneliness very well.

Althea leaned close to him and whispered, "I'll sneak away. You can't stop me. It's only one night and I'll greet you in the morning with presents and sweets."

Remus smiled. "You don't have to," he said and squeezed her hand. "Although, I'm led to believe you have an ulterior motive."

"What? _No_—"

Remus looked ahead of him. "I have the convenience of a full moon."

Althea understood what he was implying. "Well, Gran will be disappointed," she said and smiled mischievously. "She was looking forward to reminding you what a good grandson-in-law you'd be compared to that last one."

Remus laughed. "I know she would," he replied and winked. "She's been reminding me for the last five years."

Althea mockingly frowned. "Just the five? I thought it was longer."

"Five."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure—five."

Althea ran her fingers through her hair. "Who'd have thought she'd _want_ a werewolf as a grandson-in-law?"

"Gran is a strange woman," he remarked and sighed with amusement. "I distinctly remember her telling me, at the last dinner I had with her—"

"You have dinner with Gran?" she interrupted, raising and eyebrow.

"It was the last time the three of us had dinner," he answered, smiling wryly. "Don't worry, I'm not conspiring against you."

"Good."

"Anyway," he continued, "you had left the room and she said, 'Remus, life is much too short. You're a good-looking, eligible, young man. Don't spend you're life alone—marry my granddaughter.'"

Althea threw herself back on her bed in a fit of laughter. Her grandmother had become bolder in her attempts to marry off her granddaughter. "You know what the next step is," she began and stared at the ceiling.

"What?"

"A Howler at breakfast," she replied, shifting her gaze to watch his reaction.

Remus fell back onto her bed and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, she won't stop there," he groaned and peaked at her between his fingers. "She'll take out an advertisement in the _Daily Prophet_."

Althea rolled onto her side. "Just the _Daily Prophet_?" she asked and frowned mockingly. "She won't stop, Mr. Lupin, not until I become _Mrs._ Lupin."

"My mother?" he joked and Althea playfully nudged his upper arm.

"No, your wife," she explained, smiling. "You have no other choice—you _have_ to marry me," she teased and winked.

Remus rolled onto his side as well. "Are you proposing?" he asked—a small, amused smile emerging across his face.

Althea mockingly thought for a moment. "I'm not really proposing. I'm more forcing you to," she quipped and poked his shoulder.

"I'll take my chances on the Howler," he remarked and winked.

"It'll come around May, I suppose," she replied and attempted to sound cheerful.

Was she a little disappointed that Remus would not take her on the offer? Did she really mean to make an offer? _What am I thinking_, she thought, her smile fading.

Remus sensed her change of mood. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

_Damn you, Remus, for being so damn observant_, she thought as she looked at her friend who was filled with concern.

"No, actually," she sighed as she traced the outline of the elaborate embroidered pattern on her duvet. "Before you came, I was thinking about Sirius," she said, which actually was not a lie, but it was not the reason for her immediate despondency.

"Oh," he said quietly and furrowed his eyebrows. "What about?"

"That I thought I knew him," she replied, looking at her finger as she continued to trace the embroidered swirls and flowers of her duvet.

Remus placed his hand upon hers—briefly stopping her tracing. "I thought so, too," he said, with a small amount of perceptible bitterness.

Althea remembered the shock of the situation. Unlike Althea, Remus had known about the Fidelius Charm and that Sirius was the Secret Keeper. The news of his deliberate betrayal of Lily and James stunned them. If it was not for Remus saving her from the threshold of madness, Althea might not have lived to see Christmas 1981. She felt guilty and believed she prevented Remus from grieving because he had to focus his energy on her fragile mental state.

Althea sat up and moved toward the head of her bed. "I still don't believe he could ever willfully betray James," she said, and rested her head against the warm tapestry that hung behind her bed.

Remus sat next to her. "You're not still thinking—"

"Of course, I am." She sighed deeply.

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "It's outrageous—"

"Just as outrageous as Sirius the spy for Voldemort," she interrupted and turned her body toward Remus. "There were times," she began and looked at her folded hands, "that I thought he loved Harry more than Prudence."

Remus sighed and rested his hands on top of hers. "Don't Althea," he said and squeezed her hands. "Let's not—"

"It's true," she responded and clenched her jaw to keep from crying. "He would have died for James and for Harry…. I just got in the way."

Remus placed his hand on Althea's chin and gently raised her head to look in her eyes. "Don't ever forget what happened to you—he didn't care for you or Prudence. You didn't kill Lily—_he_ did."

Althea took Remus's hand and held it in hers. "There were just so many things," she said softly, massaging the palm of his hand. "You remember when Mr. and Mrs. Potter died—he was devastated."

"You obviously forgot his viciousness," he replied, placing his other hand atop hers. "You haven't forgotten how he treated you for the first five years that you knew him?"

"How could I forget?" she replied and quietly laughed to herself. "I was just as brutal to him."

"He had a fight with James two days before they died," Remus reminded, looking into her eyes.

"One fight with James did not cause him to betray his best friend."

Remus shook his head. "What about our seventh-year—when he found out about us? You saw how reckless and explosive his anger could be. He would've killed me if James hadn't stopped him."

"I remember," she replied quietly and sighed sadly. "I remember all of it, but I can't hate him. Remember where my hatred led me?"

"I remember," he replied, stroking the back of her hand. Althea observed Remus pondering her. "I know I haven't asked you this in twelve years, but…do you still love him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The color drained from Althea's face. "No," she replied awkwardly, fighting her anxiousness. "I feel sorry for him."

Remus frowned and placed his hands on Althea's shoulders. "You give him more than he deserves."

She lowered her head and stared at her indigo velvet dressing gown. "If I had done what he did, I couldn't live with myself. I'd hope the dementors would Kiss me," she said sadly. "There is no justification for what he did—trading my life for theirs. I should have been the Secret Keeper—I would have died for Lily," she continued and lifted her face to look at Remus.

Remus rested his hand against her cheek, wiping away small tears with his thumb. "That wouldn't have happened. You know how protective they were of you," he explained and stroked her cheek.

Althea sighed and rested the side of her face against his shoulder. What were those she loved protecting her from? She was not feeble—she proved she could handle terrible, grave things. _If anything, they should have protected me from myself_, she thought as Remus gently stroked her back. _I was my worst enemy. I proved it countless times_.

"If only I could go back in time," Althea said longingly, as she closed her eyes. "I'd tell myself to stay away from Sirius."

Remus rested his head against hers. "I wish I could, too," he whispered sadly, holding her close.

Althea knew immediately Remus was thinking of Iphigenia. In their fifth-year, Althea had noticed a cute brown haired Ravenclaw by the name of Iphigenia eyeing Remus on a couple of occasions in the library. With some persistence, due to the shy reluctance of both parties, Althea was able to set up Remus and Iphigenia. Unfortunately, Death Eaters killed Iphigenia the summer after their seventh-year. The Death Eaters not only killed those in the Order and those that stood in Voldemort's way, they killed their families or anyone the targeted person loved. More often, this happened before that targeted person died. Remus was a werewolf—a supposed dark creature—and did not side with Voldemort as other werewolves had done. Althea remembered Iphigenia's funeral. Remus was devastated at the sight of Iphigenia in her coffin. It was the first time, since their breakup in the library, Althea had witnessed his usually calm demeanor crack. When Iphigenia's parents had realized Remus was at the funeral, they threw him out—accusing him of killing their daughter and threatening to turn him over to the Ministry to be sent to a Werewolf Relocation Camp. She had kept his lycanthropy a secret from her parents, but after her death, they discovered it. He had never forgotten this, and Althea believed that was the reason he never had lasting romantic relationship.

"You're thinking about Iphigenia, aren't you?"

"What?" he asked distantly.

"Iphigenia," she answered, pulling away from him. "You're thinking about her, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

"Oh," he murmured, frowning slightly. "No, I was thinking of something else."

"Oh."

"I was thinking of the night I became what I am," he continued and took a ragged breath. "I wonder how different things would be."

"Don't," she replied, resting her fingertips against his cheek. "Whatever you might think, Remus, I _know_ Lily never thought you were the spy," she explained, slowly caressing his cheek. "You know how much James loved Sirius, and it wouldn't have mattered if you were or weren't a werewolf. Look, they could have chosen Peter, but they didn't."

"True," he replied, taking Althea's hand from his face and holding it against his chest. "Peter would have been a better choice, wouldn't he?" he murmured as Althea felt his heart beating against her fingertips.

"He idolized James."

"Yes, he did," he replied as he let go of her hand and reclined on Althea's bed.

"I still can't believe Sirius could have killed all those people with a single curse," she replied, reclining on her bed. Her dressing gown collected at the small of her back and she arched her back to smooth it underneath her. "I could see two or possibly three, but a single curse?" she remarked, turning onto her side to face Remus.

"His power was frightening," he commented, rolling onto his side to face her.

"I know he was powerful, but—"

"His power as a wizard was increasing—all of us in the Order saw it. He had that ability, Althea, I don't doubt it," he explained, solemnly looking into her eyes.

"There was a lot I didn't know or choose to know, I suppose," she replied, resting the back of her hand underneath her cheek. "I just wanted him home with me, but it never happened."

"He wasn't ready to settle down," Remus replied, closing and then opening his eyes wide—Althea knew he was very tired.

"I don't understand why we conceived Prudence, then." She sighed deeply. "He wasn't ready and I mistakenly thought I was—"

"He did, at that time, love you," he said, smoothing the hair away from Althea's face. "He wasn't dark then."

"What turned him?" she wondered, looking into Remus's eyes for any telling reaction.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't have that answer," he replied, rolling onto his back. Althea rested the side of her face against his chest and slid her arm around his thin waist. "It was insidious though," he continued, gently stroking the back of her head. "James didn't notice, as well."

"Or he chose not notice, like me," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Voldemort had ways of protecting his interests," he replied quietly, resting his other arm over Althea's arm.

"Clever son of a bitch," she murmured and yawned.

* * *

Althea awoke around two in the morning. She had not realized that she had drifted off to sleep, and smiled as she felt Remus still holding her. _He probably didn't want to wake me when he attempted to leave_, she thought as she opened her eyes and gazed at Remus in the moonlight. The years of transformations had taken a toll on him—premature grey hairs intermingled with the light brown locks, and thin lines formed around his mouth and eyes. Althea giggled quietly as Remus snored softly—his mouth partially open. _When did he start to snore_, she thought, smoothing the hair away from his face. Althea shifted her gaze from his face to his neck, and noticed something silver twinkling around his neck. Slowly, she lifted her head from his shoulder and carefully pulled out the sliver object. It was a locket—with his family crest—tattered and worn, slightly tarnished. She carefully opened the locket and her heart skipped. _I wonder how long he's worn this_, she thought, looking at the photograph of younger Remus and a younger version of herself holding Prudence. Smiling, she closed the locket and lovingly tucked it under the collar of his shirt.

Althea tenderly stroked the side of Remus's face with her fingertips. "No matter what you may think, Remus Lupin, I will always love you," she whispered into his ear and softly kissed his lips.

She gently rested the side of her face on his chest and closed her eyes—quietly lulled to sleep by his heartbeat.


	17. Hogwarts, May 1976

**Hogwarts, May 1976**

What does he want? He's been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes, _Althea thought, staring at Sirius. Sirius sat next to Althea on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room. Usually, Sirius would have acknowledged her presence by now with some derisive remark. _

_"Is there something you need?" Althea asked, turning toward Sirius. _

_"No, no. Er—I just wanted to thank you properly for mending my hand," he said. "Do you care to see how it's healing?"_

_"I suppose so." _

_She had forgotten she told Sirius she would look at his wounded hand after a few days of healing. Sirius had received a detention from Professor Erlenmeyer, and afterwards had returned to the Gryffindor common room with a grotesquely bleeding hand. Embedded into his flesh was the word _hubris_—produced by the special quill Erlenmeyer used for the extreme cases of detention. James had pleaded for her help because Sirius refused to see Madam Pomfrey. Althea took his bandaged hand into hers. Carefully, she removed the bandages around his right hand and held it closer to her for inspection. She gently ran her fingers along side the wounds and looked for signs of infection. She felt Sirius's pulse quicken under her fingertips. _

_"I don't see any infection," she said, still holding his hand close to her face. She was surprised at how soft his hand felt in hers. _

_"That's good," Sirius replied, moving closer to Althea. _

_Althea caught her breath. "I—I don't think you need to wear the bandage anymore."_

_"I don't think so either," he said and took her hands in his. _

_Althea took a ragged breath—they were so close. Sirius caressed her cheek with his fingertips, and Althea closed her eyes as Sirius cupped his hands around her face. Her heart raced as he passionately kissed her lips and then her neck as he slowly slid his hands underneath her blouse…._

Althea immediately sat up from her nap—panicked—and took deep labored breaths, hoping her heart would stop racing. She wildly scanned the dormitory room for others, but found that she was alone. She was in a hysterical state—how could she have dreamt about Sirius? She was tired of those dreams—why would her mind create such nightmares? Last night, it was a moonlit walk by the lake; the night before, it was on the Quidditch pitch; four nights ago, it was her home in Bermuda; and a week ago—most awful—at Madam Puddifoot's tearoom. The dream always ended the same way—Sirius telling her he loved her.

Althea took her hand and vigorously rubbed her forehead. "Black, get the hell out of my dreams," she mumbled, still groggy from her nap.

Althea stood from her bed and searched for her shoes. She had to find a place she could concentrate on something other than the dream about Sirius. After her father died, she needed a place to be alone without the threat of someone finding her—a place to remember her father. To her horror, her grandmother had started to dispose of her father's things, and despite her protests, did not stop. She needed to escape, to mourn, and to remember her father. After one such confrontation, as Althea walked the corridor—so distraught and desperate to remember her father—a room on the seventh floor appeared before her and contained everything she loved about her father. It looked exactly like her father's study in Bermuda where she liked to play when she was younger. The walls were a light moss, covered with artifacts collected from his travels and pictures of Althea and her mother. A large leather sofa rested underneath the window and a large piano sat in the corner of the room facing the wall of books.

Althea immersed herself in her piano playing, forgetting about her dream. It was the first time since her father died that she did not cry while playing the piano. He was the one who taught her to play, sitting her on his lap when she was three. Her father taught her first to play the 'Für Elise'—the quintessential piece in any young pianist's repertoire. She remembered how proud she was when she could play that song without one mistake for her father. When she had finished, she sighed, and stared back at the piano keys before her. All of a sudden, Althea heard clapping from behind her. Who had discovered her secret room? She sat rigid and prepared herself to face her audience.

"You've found the room, then?"

A very embarrassed Althea felt her neck and collar warm. _Black, why did it have to be Black_, she thought as the blush traveled down her chest. She turned in her seat to face him. He stood at her father's desk.

"I discovered it my second year—with James, of course," he explained, his fingers glided along the edge of the desktop. "Hiding from Filch…it never looked like this though."

Althea felt uneasy that he touched the memories of her father. "How did you find me?"

Sirius shrugged and leaned against the desk. "What is this place?"

"It's my father's study," she replied, sitting forward as Sirius picked up a picture frame, "in Bermuda."

He looked up from the picture frame. "Is this your mum?"

Althea nodded.

Sirius carefully set the picture frame on the desk. "That was amazing," he said, pointing to the piano.

"Amazing?" she repeated, smoothing a curl behind her ear.

"Yeah," he said, walking toward her. "I never had much patience for the piano. Did you write that?"

"Oh—oh no, I didn't write that. Um, Beethoven wrote that," she said and gently bit her bottom lip.

Sirius raised one eyebrow and gave a puzzled look.

"I forgot, you don't know who Beethoven is," she said aloud, looking to her skirt. "He's a famous Muggle composer."

"Well, do you know more by this Beethoven?" he asked, and took a chair from behind Althea and sat down next to her.

"I can play one more of Beethoven's by memory, but the rest I'd need sheet music for," she said, looking from her skirt, to the piano keys, to Sirius.

"Do you know any other songs from memory?" he asked, leaning closer to her, and Althea felt her neck growing even warmer.

"A few," she managed to say, taking in a shallow breath.

"Could you play them?"

"All of them?" she asked quietly, not taking her gaze from his grey eyes.

"All of them," he repeated, staring into her eyes. Althea felt her heart pound wildly against her breastbone.

"Right," she whispered and took a deep breath.

At first, Althea attempted to maintain devout concentration on the pieces. She tried concentrating on the music, her playing, the way her fingers glided along the keys, the keys themselves, and finally the name of the piano company. However, she could not concentrate anymore as she could feel Sirius to the immediate left of her. She slowly glanced out of the corner of her eye to look at him. Sirius sat close to her, very absorbed in her piano performance. His lips were slightly parted, as if in awe of what was before him, and Althea let a small smile escape. She was not as nervous anymore. She felt an enormous growing power.

"Do you find this fascinating?" she asked as she finished playing.

"Yeah," he quietly replied and turned toward her. He leaned close. "Do you know any Muggle rock n roll?"

"Perhaps," she said and started to play.

"No, no, no," he said, placing his hand atop hers.

Althea stopped playing and slipped her hand out from underneath his. "What? That's Muggle—"

"That's _not_ rock n roll," he said with a look of condescension. "It's something some Muggle granny would listen to—"

"It's Elton John!" she said, sitting up straight.

"Exactly," he said, and before Althea could protest, he set sheet music before her. "This," he said, pointing to the sheet music, "is rock n roll."

Althea looked at the title and giggled. "You're joking, right?"

Sirius sighed, but that cutting remark she was so accustomed did not come—in fact, it had not come for some time. "You could try it, at least," he said and tapped a key with his finger.

"It's not meant for the piano—"

"It doesn't matter," he said, placing her hands on the keys. "I'd like to hear it."

"Right," she sighed and started to play. "I'm not singing it."

"Of course, not, Morrigan," he said, attempting to hide a smile.

"Reckon he prefers 'Tiny Dancer,'" she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, Black, just enjoy the song."

Althea bit her lip to keep from snickering as she continued to play and Sirius hummed and sang the words. _Of all the Muggle songs, he wanted me to play this one_, she thought as she finished. _Lily would never believe this_.

"Brilliant," he said. "I reckon it's best left to a guitar, though."

"Indeed," she said and arched her back.

"You surprise me, Miss Morrigan. You repeatedly receive the highest marks in Transfiguration, you're a Seeker, and you're an Animagus. I can't find anything you are not good at—"

A rush of excitement surged through her body. "Oh?" she asked, in feigned innocence, and faced him.

She stared directly into his grey eyes and for the first time she saw the great and cool aura of Sirius Black splinter. It was exhilarating.

"Or maybe I have…or maybe Snape has."

The great, cool, and overly confident aura of Sirius returned. Althea frowned slightly.

"I'm not surprised," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "What have I done this time?"

"It's your Potions work, Morrigan," he said and winked.

Althea looked away in an attempt to cover her smile. She knew she was unorthodox in her Potions work. Unlike the grim Snape, Althea believed there was room for laughter in the Potions classroom—even if it meant an occasional melted or exploded cauldron…like that morning. It was not her fault, really. She noticed the sign Sirius had stuck on the back of Snape's school robe—'The Fun Starts Here'—and had not realized how much ingredient she had added to her potion. She was smart enough to duck under the table—unlike Jane who spent the afternoon in the Infirmary with half of her face purple. Still, to think about it caused her snicker.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said mischievously. "I get decent marks, and I think might've gotten a better mark than _him_ once. Of course, I can't take all the credit—Lily is brilliant at Potions. I just follow her lead."

"You should hear him mutter those dreadful things about you during class, and in the library, and in the Great Hall, and in the hallways," Sirius said, counting the items off with his fingers.

"Oh, I do," she replied. "That I'm a worthless half-blood—or the more _polite_ term Muckblood—that I don't deserve half the marks I get, and that I only get them because—well—I'm versed in various methods of _extra credit_."

"It's disgusting."

"Indeed?" Althea raised an eyebrow.

Sirius nodded. "His father's a Muggle and his _good friend_—as you said—is a Muggle-born," he explained and bit the inside of his cheek. "I don't understand it."

"I don't either."

"He can't be friends with one and then shout epithets and curses at the rest. What sort of friendship is that?"

"I've wondered that myself."

"It puts you in a position, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes it does," she said distantly. "I wonder if Lily believes me. He never says them round her, of course. He bullies Jane as well…sees us as a threat, probably." She frowned slightly.

"I'd never be mates with someone who treated a mate of mine like that," he remarked and sneered. "Cowardly, I think."

Althea reached into her robe pocket for her wand. "Are you saying that I shouldn't be friends with Lily? Because if you are, I will hex you. I don't care about that stupid debt, I'll do it."

"No, no, I didn't mean that!" he replied, holding his hands up in front of him.

"What did you mean then?"

"I meant," he said, his hand gently coaxing her wand arm down, "she shouldn't be friends with _him_. Have you ever jinxed him?"

"No," she said, slipping her wand into her robe pocket.

"You should stand up to him, jinx him a bit," Sirius encouraged, nudging her.

"Why?"

"He deserves it!"

"He's pathetic and I have better things to do with my time than jinx him," she said and stood from the piano bench. "I like to forget he exists. I don't want to be like him: jinxing students because he feels they deserve it—just because they're not pure-blood and don't fancy a bit of the Dark Arts."

"You wouldn't be like him—"

"Yes, I would," she replied as she walked toward the leather sofa. "You're not much better, Black. What's your excuse?"

Sirius knocked over his chair as he leapt from it. He grabbed her arms and quickly spun her around. Stunned, Althea caught her breath.

He tightly held her arms as spoke to her, "How dare you insinuate that I have anything to do with Dark Magic! How dare you think I'd be a loathsome purity fanatic! Take back what you said, Morrigan. I know you don't believe that."

Althea did not take her gaze away from him. "How do you know what I believe? I see you jinxing other students in the hallway—did any fifth-year jinx you when you were a fourth- or third-year? No, they didn't," she explained, hoping something would register inside him. "Has Snape ever hurt you? Why do you torment him?"

"Because he torments you!"

Althea's eyes grew wide. Sirius developed a look of embarrassment and horror, as if he did not mean ever to say it, most of all to say it to her. He let go of her and massaged the back of his neck.

"And the others—you know—the non-pure-blood," he added, avoiding her eyes.

Althea blinked and slowly sat down on the edge of the sofa. "Right," she breathed, looking at the floor in front of her.

Sirius cleared his throat.

"I—I'm sorry," she said, looking up. Sirius stopped pacing. "I shouldn't have said that."

His expression softened. "Thank you," he said. He righted the fallen chair, but instead of sitting in it, he walked toward her and sat next to her.

"You loathe those things just as much as I do," she said and bit her bottom lip. She refused to look at him as she continued, "You're _nothing_ like him. How Lily could remain friends with him after what he did after my father died…."

Sirius's hand gently stroked her back as she fought back tears.

"I don't understand it either."

Althea sniffed and looked toward Sirius. "Why did you confiscate those _Daily Prophets_?" she asked and Sirius stopped stroking her back.

"You didn't need to read it," he said and rested his arm to the back of the sofa behind her. "No one did."

"It's a horrible paper," she said and leaned back on the sofa.

Sirius hastily retracted his arm. "It is," he said. "The love advertisements and Quidditch scores are the only reasons to read it."

Althea laughed quietly. "Love advertisements?"

"Haven't you read those? They're a great laugh."

"Are they?"

"Yeah," he answered, smiling to himself. "James and I want to send one in on Snivelly's behalf, but the damn paper has age restrictions."

"Seventeen and older, right?"

"Bloody Age Charms," he muttered, scratching the side of his face. He let his arm fall to his side—his hand within millimeters of hers.

Althea startled as Sirius's hand brushed against her hand. What seemed to be a thousand little electrical sparks pleasantly traveled throughout her body as his little finger gradually wrapped around her little finger. She felt her neck and chest flush once more.

"Why are you here?" she asked and wished her body would cool.

Sirius did not answer.

"Is it about the Quidditch match? I know about the different time—Potter told me earlier."

"No, no," he said, taking her hand in his. "There's something I really need to tell you."

"Oh?" Her entire body grew increasingly hot. She looked ahead at the door—she did not blink.

He was silent for a few moments before he said, "I'm glad that you didn't have to leave Hogwarts." He gently pressed her hand.

She had a feeling that was not what he wanted to say at all.

There was an awkward silence. Althea did not know if she should remove her hand from his. She rather liked it where it was now, and Sirius did not seem to mind either. She felt him stroking the back of her hand with his thumb and she bit her lip trying to hide her nervousness. She heard Sirius quietly clear his throat and she felt him shift his body closer to her. Her heart began to pound wildly and she realized she had stopped breathing for a few moments.

"_Padfoot_…."

She disregarded the strange whispering noise and turned her face to meet his….

"_Padfoot_…_Padfoot_…."

Althea opened her eyes and quickly moved away from Sirius.

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered darkly and shoved his hand into his robe pocket. He pulled out a small mirror and narrowed his eyes as he looked into it. "What do you want?"

"When you see Morrigan, tell her about the change in time." Althea recognized it as James' voice.

"_She knows already_," Sirius said through gritted teeth. "You told her."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did—earlier today. You could ask her yourself as _she's here with me_."

"Oh—oh, right. I did. Sorry."

"Never mind. I'll talk to you later," Sirius said and shoved the mirror back into his robe pocket. "He's such a berk," he muttered, shaking his head.

"I—I should go," Althea said quickly, standing up. "It's very late. I'll see you at the match tomorrow."

"Wait," Sirius said somewhat awkwardly and stood. "I'll walk with you."

The walk to Gryffindor Tower was silent and very uncomfortable. _Bloody hell, I can't believe I almost_, she thought and could not finish her train of thought. She glanced to her left at Sirius. _He looks just as embarrassed—that was not supposed to happen. Glad that I didn't leave Hogwarts? He found me just to tell me that_? Althea's eyes widened as she entertained the idea of what he really wanted to say. _No_, she thought as they approached the Fat Lady's portrait. _No, he isn't the one_.

Sirius stopped with is back to the portrait. "I should apologize for interrupting you."

"It's all right, really," she said and frowned as Sirius blocked her exit from him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, stepping closer to her. "I interrupted your piano playing."

"It's all right," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "You sounded a bit like Paul Rodgers."

_Oh, that was such a stupid thing to say_, she thought as her neck grew warm.

"Yeah?" he laughed nervously. "You like Bad Company, then?"

Althea nodded. "One of my favorites," she said and crossed her right leg behind her.

"Right."

The two went silent. Althea wondered why Sirius had not said the password.

"You haven't coaxed her to change the password again, have you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't have to say that I fancy you or something like that?"

He chuckled quietly. "No," he said and winked.

"Althea?" Lily asked from behind her.

Sirius and Althea looked at one another mortified. _Damn_, she thought as she slowly turned to face Lily. Lily did not say anything to Sirius but took Althea's hand, said the password, and dragged her toward the girls' dormitory. Althea turned her head to look back at Sirius in the common room, but he was not there.

Lily flung her onto Althea's bed. "Althea, what were you doing?" she whispered, but to no avail, Jane was awake, ready to interrogate Althea as well.

"You didn't sneak out again?" Jane asked, sitting on Althea's bed.

"Yes, I did," Althea answered, rubbing her tired face with her hand.

"But with Black," Lily added, shaking her head.

"You were _alone_ with Black?" Jane squealed and Althea and Lily both shushed her to be quiet. "I'm enormously jealous," she added in a whisper.

Althea had to think fast. "There is nothing to be jealous about, Jane. I was helping him with Muggle Studies," she said, hoping they would believe her. "He had an essay on Muggle music."

Lily narrowed her eyes and Althea took in a nervous gulp of air. "Where were his books?"

"I don't remember an essay on Muggle music," Jane said and her eyes grew wide. "You liar! You were _with_ Black!" she whispered heatedly.

Althea's mouth dropped open in shock with Jane's accusation, and she threw her pillow at Jane's head. "No, Jane!" she said in an exasperated voice. "He's not my type anyway," she added, and blushed at the awkwardness of her words. "You're the one that wants to snog him, not me."

"Well, what _were_ you two doing?" Lily asked, folding her arms. "It's almost midnight."

"I could say the same for you," Althea said and Lily scowled at her. Althea took in a deep breath and prayed this excuse would work. "Revising Quidditch plays," she said and was proud of herself for thinking such a good excuse. "Now, if you two don't mind, I have a game tomorrow and I need to prepare for bed."

She left the two girls on her bed and went to her cupboard to collect her things. After she prepared for bed, she returned to the fifth-year girls' dormitory room. She was the only one awake at this time of night and quietly crept over to her bed. Jane was asleep, softly snoring in the bed left of Althea's bed; however, as Althea pulled back the heavy burgundy curtain, she was greeted to Lily-with her knees curled to her chest-upon her bed. Althea sighed and frowned as Lily studied her friend with a dubious expression. She sat next to Lily, who was blocking Althea from her pillow and precious sleep.

"Althea, I still want to talk to you," Lily whispered and Althea winced slightly. "I know you weren't talking about Quidditch. You are a dreadful liar."

"It's nothing, Lily," she said and sighed longingly at her pillow. "Really."

"I'm worried about you."

"Why? I can take care of myself," she replied, pulling her knees to her chest.

"That's what I'm talking about. Althea, I think Black might try to take advantage of you."

"Advantage of me? You _can't_ be serious. What would he want with me, Lily? I'm just Morrigan," she said. "You see the girls he goes for—petite, pretty, and blonde. I'm nothing like them," she added, smoothing a curl behind her ear. "Honestly, I'm the _last_ girl he wants."

"Althea, you obviously don't see what I see—"

"_Obviously_," she interrupted and rolled her eyes.

"Listen, this year it seems like he's going out of his way to talk to you—to be near you—"

"Lily, he's a Beater. I talk with the other members of the team all the time, and he's no different," she interrupted again, talking a little louder due to annoyance.

"I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"You," Lily said and rested her hand on Althea's arm. "In the time I've known you, you've hated Sirius—"

"And? What are you getting at?"

Lily looked into Althea's eyes, and shook her head. "When was the last time you told him to 'sod off'?"

Althea did not say a word.

"I remember you telling him to 'sod off' or to 'bugger off' at least three times a day, but now, I don't think I've heard you tell him in over a month or so."

"So?" she replied defensively and folded her arms.

"So, I'm worried. Althea, he views girls as conquests, and you'd be his greatest so far."

Althea stifled her laughter—her the greatest conquest?

"Please, me his greatest conquest? Lily, you know those are just rumors—just like the rumors about me. People just say them because we're—we're different," she explained, unfolding her arms.

"Exactly. You are different. You are the most exotic girl here. No one has traveled or lived in as many places as you. No one else has a tattoo or has the clothes and jewelry you have," Lily began, placing her hands on Althea's shoulders. "You are beautiful—don't argue, Althea."

Althea looked down and avoided Lily's gaze. "Lily you don't have to worry—I won't be his conquest," she said and added, "and if I do fall to his charms, he's probably using a Love Potion or an Unforgivable Curse."

She looked at Lily to see her reaction and gave a wry smile. Lily still looked concerned for Althea's welfare—on the verge of tears.

"I just couldn't stand it if he hurt you! You've been through so much," said Lily, sniffing back tears.

Althea rested her forehead against Lily's forehead. "Listen," she whispered, "I know you're worried, but there is nothing to worry about. It'll be all right—believe me—I can handle him." She gave Lily a hug. "I thought you would be happy we're civil."

"I am—"

"Now, I need to go to sleep."

"All right, goodnight," she said and went back to her bed next to Althea. "Just throw something at him tomorrow, at least?"

"Right, I'll throw Jane's copy of _Witch Weekly_ at him," said Althea, as she crawled under her covers and waited for welcomed sleep. "Goodnight."

Althea lay awake in bed and watched the moonlight shimmer across her duvet. She looked over in the direction of Lily's bed and watched her for a few moments as she slept. Was Lily right, did Sirius think of her as a conquest? It could have been possible. It was widely known that Althea thought of Sirius with the utmost hatred. Therefore, it would be a remarkable feat to win over the affections of Althea. She despised Sirius's pride. Sirius came from a life of privilege. He never went without and always received what he wanted. It did not matter the price—whatever he wanted was automatically granted to him. Althea's outward repulsion of him must somehow attract him. She did not want to be his trophy. Sirius had told her that his family despised anyone less than pure-blood, and Sirius was at odds with his family over their beliefs. What better way to rebel and to irritate his family than date Althea? She did not want be his method of revenge.

Althea gazed out the window at the stars flickering in the sky. She recounted everything she and Sirius had said that night. He had been so candid and exposed with her. Was she really the reason he tormented Snape? Althea remembered the mortified expression on his face when he mentioned the initial reason he hassled Snape—her. Her stomach leapt at the possibility that he did so in an attempt to protect her. Did he have feelings for her? Moreover, did she have feelings for him? The thought that she felt anything other than hate or indifference toward Sirius caused Althea to shudder. For a while now she had felt different around him—especially after the night on the school grounds. Some small compassionate part overtook her while she was around him. She felt ridiculous and awkward at times. She was more conscious of her Quidditch playing as well—something she never thought of before. She always wanted to be at her best, and sometimes caught herself looking out of the corner of her eye checking to see if he was looking at her. She used to rationalize the glances as necessary against his teasing; however, the thin veil of her rationalizations unraveled as she caught herself looking at him for pure enjoyment.

Althea wondered what would have happened if James had not contacted Sirius. Would they have kissed? They were so close and his breath smelled of peppermint. Althea closed her eyes and imagined what it would have been like to kiss Sirius. She wondered if it would have been as sensual as the rumors described or as intoxicating as her dreams. A small part of her anticipated her sleep.

A terrified Althea abruptly sat up in bed and gasped in horror. "Oh my God, I'm falling in love with Sirius Black!" she frantically whispered.

She lay awake the rest of the night covering her mouth with her hands, hoping those words would never escape her mouth again.


	18. Northfield, Christmas Eve, 1993

**Northfield, Christmas Eve, 1993**

"Althea Rosemary, dear, I need another piece of tape," Gran said—her one hand stretched out in front of Althea, and the other, holding the gold wrapping paper closed.

"Oh, sorry, here," Althea replied distantly, as she handed her Gran a piece of tape.

Gran sighed and held the package in front of her. Examining the package as a diamond cutter would a diamond, Gran removed the backing of a bow and placed it neatly in the center of the wrapped package. Althea's grandmother prided herself in exquisitely wrapped packages for the children's home; however, this year Althea's thoughts were not focused on wrapping presents. Her thoughts focused on Remus, who insisted on spending his transformation alone this holiday at Hogwarts. _He even refused escorting me to the New Year's celebration_, she thought, neatly folding the corner of the wrapping paper. _They're Muggles—they'd never know. Muggles don't care…. It's his bloody pride, that's what it is. Next year, I'm insisting Sophie and George have the New Year's celebration at a nudist colony_. Althea faintly smirked to herself as she thought of the pallid and thin figure of Remus standing in the center of a nudist colony—his face scowling as much as he could at her.

Althea put the last piece of tape on her own package, and tired, she ran her fingers through her hair. Wrapping the presents for the children's home usually gave her great delight, but this year she felt so…so lonely.

"Is everything all right?"

"For the most part," she replied and shrugged her shoulders. "I'll collect the packages."

She stood, started to collect the packages, and as she placed the packages in two large red sacks, Althea felt something small hit her upon the back of the head. Turning around, holding the back of her head, she discovered the roll of tape at her feet. Bending down, she picked up the roll and twirled it on her index finger.

"What's this for?" she asked and tossed the tape to Gran.

"You can't let that—that scoundrel, Black, get to you," Gran warned, her eyes narrowing.

Althea quietly laughed to herself as she sat next to her grandmother. "Scoundrel? When were you ever so polite when referring to Sirius?"

Gran frowned. "It must be my age."

"Or senility," Althea mumbled and smiled.

"Althea Rosemary, I may be old, but I have excellent hearing," she replied and Althea winced at what was to come. "Now, that foul boy—"

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes. "Is this another 'I warned you about Sirius, but you didn't listen to me and now look what happened' talk?" she asked and folded her arms. "Because if it is, I remember the last one: 'Althea Rosemary, nothing ever decent came from the Blacks. If Voldemort, himself, could have come from any family, he would have chosen the Black family. Sirius cannot help his dark tendencies. It is in his blood,'" she mimicked, sitting very rigid as Gran would.

Gran shuddered. "Would you please refrain from using his name!"

"Who? Voldemort or Sirius?"

"_You-know-who_!" Gran whispered excitedly, tightening her grip on the roll of tape.

Althea arched her eyebrow. "Gran, how are you afraid of someone who was defeated by a boy in nappies?"

"You-know-who killed a quarter of all wizards, Althea Rosemary, or have you forgotten?" she reminded—her expression grim.

Althea sighed sadly. "I haven't forgotten," she replied, frowning. "I buried too many friends."

"Right, and now having him on the loose we're all not safe," she replied, knowingly looking into Althea's eyes.

Uncomfortable, Althea shifted her gaze to her neatly manicured nails.

"It's just a matter of time—"

"He thinks I'm dead," she muttered as she studied how her nails softly curved. "He's believed that for twelve years—"

"Don't be so sure."

Althea returned her gaze to her grandmother's face. "Gran, there's no way he knows I'm alive," she reassured, sitting forward, "no way."

Gran frowned. "He has broken into Hogwarts," she warned and pointed her finger at Althea. "He will do it again."

Althea swallowed. "The dementors…" she said weakly.

"He escaped from Azkaban, Althea Rosemary," she said, her blue eyes widening slightly, "of his own accord."

"Surprised you didn't say that I helped," she muttered, kicking her heel against the floor.

"Next time, he might see you, and what would you do, then?" she asked and folded her arms.

"What would you have me do?" she said, throwing herself back against the sofa. "Resign from my prestigious position?"

"I think it wise—"

"What about Prudence?" she challenged and ran the tip of her tongue along the bottoms of her upper teeth. "I won't resign, not while—"

"She's dead."

Althea instinctively convulsed.

"She is interred next to your parents," Gran replied, seeming to look through the roll of tape she held in her hand.

"I won't leave her," she said and made a noise of disgust when she recognized Celestina Warbeck on the wireless. "I won't leave any of the children."

Gran turned the tape over and over between her fingers. "You'd go back to him…wouldn't you?"

"_What_?" she shrieked, sitting up. "Are you mad? Why would you think something so ridiculous—"

Gran lifted her needlepoint from the end table and pulled out a small silver frame. Althea exhaled a shaky breath—her stomach in a small knot.

"Upon Grand's writing desk, I discovered this," she said and handed Althea the picture frame.

Althea took the silver frame into her hands. "They're my friends," she said as she looked at the photograph of the two couples. Her eyes focused to the wiggling baby—with the shock of black hair and emerald green eyes—in Lily's arms. "James and Sirius were sort of friends so it was very difficult to take a photograph of one without the other."

"Indeed."

Althea inhaled deeply through her nostrils. "_Don't_," she warned, her fingers tightening around the picture frame. "Afina's about to arrive—"

"When it came to that boy you never were in your right mind."

"I'm thirty-three, _not_ seventeen," she reminded and stood from the couch. "He murdered my best friend," she added as she walked toward the door that led to the main hall. "He left his godson an orphan. Don't you dare think that I would take back a man that wanted us all dead!"

As Althea reached for the doorknob, her Gran spoke, "I found your divorce papers…you never signed them."

Althea stopped and braced herself against the door. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, looking at the wood grain of the door. "I signed those papers."

"Don't lie to me, Althea Rosemary. You never signed them and you had no intention of ever signing them."

Althea quickly turned to face her grandmother. _Who would want me_, she thought, studying her grandmother. Gran folded her arms as she stared at her granddaughter.

"It was a sham, Gran—you know that," she replied, running her fingers through her hair. "You know what would have happened if we didn't do what we did."

"He would have been where he belonged," she replied resolutely. "Your best friend might still be alive and you—you wouldn't be a Muggle Studies schoolteacher."

Althea shook her head as she laughed hollowly "Why are you doing this?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in disbelief. "It's Christmas Eve."

"Move on with your life," she replied, leaning forward. "I wasn't the one who broke off the engagement to the nice physician."

"It was two years ago!" she laughed and sighed deeply as she looked at Gran. "It wouldn't have worked, you know that. He wanted children and I couldn't give him that. Now he's happily married with a child on the way," she explained and rubbed her forehead. "You didn't see his face when I told him what I am," she said, resting the back of her head against the door. "I couldn't pull the ring off quick enough."

Gran frowned.

"I'm done," she said and opened the door. "Goodnight, Gran."

"If you stopped moping, maybe the werewolf would marry you!" she replied as Althea shut the door.

"Happy Christmas to you, too," she muttered darkly, looking up toward the main entrance ceiling.

* * *

_What am I clinging to_, Althea thought as she opened the large trunk. The faint, old smell of the cedar chest wafted into her nostrils as she discovered the divorce papers resting atop small and medium size boxes. Althea unfolded the divorce papers and sighed as she read them. She did sign them—at least in her mind—but what did it matter? The Muggle world had no knowledge of Sirius Black—he was very much a wizard entrenched in the Wizarding world. It was Althea that must play both Muggle and witch, and she could act as if he never existed. _It wasn't legal_, she thought, looking at where her signature should have been. _Quickie Muggle marriages to prevent oneself from Azkaban don't mean anything…. Maybe I should have let the Ministry take him, it was his stupid mouth that got us into that mess. 'Honeymoon couple,' brilliant excuse_.

"Bloody idiot," she murmured as she roughly refolded the papers and placed them at her side.

_I haven't looked in this chest for years_, she thought as she peered deeper into the chest.

"Oh my, what is in here?" she whispered as she opened a small box.

Resting atop old pictures lay her engagement ring. _As if he really would have married me_, she thought, taking the ring from the box. _It was to keep me quiet_. Resisting the urge to slip it onto her finger, Althea held the ring between her thumb and index finger and examined it. She was amazed that after twelve years of storage the ruby richly sparkled in the dim light. _I don't know why I hold on to this or any of this stuff_, she thought as she placed the ring in the small box, _maybe I'm just a sentimental fool…or maybe Gran is right_.

"Don't ever think Gran is right again," she said, closing the small box.

Carefully, she pulled out a larger box at the bottom of the chest. _I thought I had all of them in her box_, she thought as she opened the large box. Sirius had insisted on sending the picture to his mother for Christmas. In the picture, Althea was laughing as Sirius sat behind her—one hand on her very pregnant abdomen and the other hand underneath her blouse, tickling her side. Unfortunately, they were never able to send that picture and Althea produced a mournful sigh. _He only wanted to send that picture because his hand was up my blouse and I was very pregnant_, she thought, placing the photograph in the wand pocket of her dress. _Anything to shock his mother, but he did send that one picture, though, and ruined everything…the bastard_.

"Petunia and _Dursley_," she whispered derisively as she gazed at their wedding photograph.

Lily had charmed it so that Althea could see Lily making rude faces next to Petunia. She smiled sadly as she watched Lily frown and stick out her tongue as Petunia and Dursley smiled oblivious to Lily's gestures.

"Why did Petunia make you wear that horrendously pink taffeta dress…and that awful hat?" she asked aloud as Lily puffed out her cheeks and crossed her eyes. "She always was envious of how beautiful you were compared to her—the old horse."

Althea shuffled through more pictures, until she found a stack of letters neatly tied. Carefully, she untied the letters and let them slide into her lap. Taking the first letter into her hands, Althea unfolded it and began to snicker. _'Drink to me only with thine eyes_,' she read, her lips quivering into an embarrassed smile. On the Easter Holiday of her fifth-year, Sirius had visited a Muggle bookstore, bought the exact book of poetry her father had given her, and began anonymously writing her love letters—taking excerpts from her favorite poems. She continued to read the letter—tracing the strokes of his words with her finger.

_I must have been the silliest fifteen-year-old girl to fall for something like this_, she thought as she continued reading the second letter. _Of course, I don't believe I'll ever feel that way again_.

"What am I thinking?" she murmured, looking up from the letter, horrified. "He's seducing me again."

_No, no, no! I won't have this_, she thought, fiercely rubbing her eyes. _He murdered Lily! He wanted you dead! He took your daughter away from you_!

"Stop doing this to me!" she shouted as she picked the stack of letters in her lap and threw them across the attic.

* * *

_Drink to me only with thine eyes  
-_"To Celia" by Ben Jonson


	19. Hogwarts, June 1976

**Hogwarts, June 1976**

"Oh! You received another letter!" Jane said excitedly, reaching for the opened letter. "Let me read it!"

Althea held the letter high above her head so Jane could not reach it. The three girls rested at the edge of the lake and watched the sun as it sank lower in the sky. Althea sat down, opened the letter again, and slowly reread every word. Her secrecy was torture for Jane and she relished it. It was the tenth letter she had received from her mystery admirer. This was the longest letter so far, and the most intimate. Althea blushed at the mention of her soft skin. With every word, she longed to know who was the author of the letter she held in her hands; however, her admirer kept changing the school owls for each letter.

"I wish you'd tell us what it says," Lily said eagerly, sitting closer to Althea. "Is it like the others?"

Althea nodded her head, but before she could answer, their friend had returned. It was a gigantic black dog that the girls affectionately and humorously called Snuffles—after a dog Lily had when she was small. However, Lily's dog was a Bichon Frise, a cute and fluffy sort of dog—a dog suitable for the name Snuffles. Snuffles took his usual place next to Althea—much to the envy of Jane and Lily. Althea began to scratch Snuffles behind his ears, causing his tail to wag happily.

"The letter," Althea muttered in a far away voice as she scratched Snuffles behind his ears. "The letter, well, it was—er—very passionate."

Lily and Jane gasped and then began to giggle.

"Althea, do you mean it talked about—" Jane began, but could not finish and blushed.

"Jane, what are these types of letters designed to talk about?" she teased and she flashed a playful smile. The three girls started to giggle again.

Jane sighed. "But it must be wonderful having a secret admirer." Jane said and looked longingly at Althea and the letter.

Snuffles stretched and rested his head and paws on Althea's lap. Althea stopped scratching Snuffles behind his ears and rested her hands on his neck. She thought about her secret admirer. It was nice to have someone who felt that way writing her those letters. Every time she received another letter from a school owl, her heart leapt with excitement. She desperately wanted to meet her admirer—even more so that the school year was ending soon.

"Does it say who it is from?" Lily asked, leaning close to take a peak at the letter.

Althea quickly flashed the bottom of the letter. "No," she sighed and refolded the letter.

Lily continued to look at the folded letter thoughtfully. "_Who_ do you think it's from?"

Althea knew Lily was concerned with who the letter writer was. She had mentioned previous times to Althea that these letters might be a joke—a joke performed by one of the Slytherin girls in retaliation, or worse, a large practical joke performed by Sirius and his friends. Lily was almost convinced Sirius initiated this cruel joke and sought to confront him. It was only Althea's insistence that Lily relented.

"I don't know," she replied and shrugged. "He seems older, I think."

"A seventh-year?"

"Possibly."

"Ew—maybe it's a Slytherin," Jane said and made a disgusted face. "Ew, maybe Snape."

Althea made a retching noise and Snuffles growled. "See, even Snuffles doesn't like that idea," she said and kissed Snuffles on the top of his head.

Snuffles barked happily and wagged his tail.

"I reckon if Snape would send me post, it would be post with some sort of hex enclosed."

"Does he fancy girls even?" Jane asked, wrinkling her nose.

"No, just books. He fancies books," Althea remarked mischievously. "That's why he has all those paper cuts."

"I'd hate to be his books," Jane replied and pulled a face. The two girls laughed once more and Lily shot Althea a warning look.

"Maybe it's that Ravenclaw seventh-year—you know—Paul Summers," Lily said.

"He's _so_ handsome!" Jane squealed.

"He is, but his hair is too perfect. I've never seen it move," Lily replied, resting her hands behind her. "I like hair—"

"That looks a bit wind-swept," Althea interrupted and smiled teasingly.

Lily's eyes narrowed as she fought her own smile. "What are you getting at, Althea?" she asked slyly, pulling up a few blades of grass and throwing them at Althea.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied with mock innocence. "Anyway, he can't be. He's dating Katherine Merriman—the Ravenclaw Keeper."

Lily looked at Althea and cleared her throat. "Maybe it's Lupin."

Althea took her hand off Snuffles and stroked away a long black curl that fell in her face. A little part of her had questioned if it was Remus writing those letters, but she remembered what Remus had whispered to her, 'there is someone who loves you more than I do.' Althea wondered if Remus knew who wrote the letters, but she knew he would never tell her if he did.

"No," replied Althea and placed her hand back on Snuffles. "It's—it's—not Lupin. It doesn't sound like him."

Jane gasped and covered her mouth. "You still fancy him. Oh poor, Althea," she said and placed her hand on Althea's shoulder.

"Jane, he's just a friend," she said absently stroking the dog's back. "It wasn't anything serious, anyway."

Jane sighed disappointedly and frowned. Althea watched as Jane tried to think of another who would write those letters. Suddenly, Jane's eyes grew wide and she spoke, "Althea, maybe it's Sirius Black!"

Althea lifted her head and Snuffles did the same. A small jolt of adrenaline coursed through her body. "Don't be silly. He wouldn't go for me," she mumbled, flustered, and stroked Snuffles who was now whimpering. "I'm just Morrigan."

"I'm serious," Jane said, leaning forward and resting her palms against the grass. "I've seen him stare at you before. He was doing it in Charms class yesterday—"

"Maybe he was trying to find something wrong with me."

Jane stared dreamily over Althea's shoulder. "He's so gorgeous and clever and—"

"And rich," Althea finished and winked. "Come of it. Don't look at me like that, Jane! Unlike you, _dear Jane_, the majority of girls fancy him for his Galleons."

"Don't forget the snogging," Lily said with mock thoughtfulness.

"Indeed, the snogging," Althea said and nodded. "Oh, and the brilliant conversation."

Jane narrowed her eyes at Althea. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Althea's head jolted back. She felt slightly panicked. "What are you talking about?"

Jane looked to Lily as she spoke, "I heard from Bertha Jorkins that just today she saw Althea and Sirius Black in the library (she paused for dramatic effect) _together_."

"So?" Althea said, aware that Snuffles had lifted his head. "He borrowed one of my father's books—that's all."

"_That's all_?" Jane repeated, her eyes widening. "He transfigured your hair slide into a hollyhock," she said and pointed to Althea's hair. "You're still wearing it."

Althea felt her face flush with warmth. She lifted her hand to her hair—her fingertips grazed the hollyhock petals. _Damn_, she thought as the two girls stared at her—Jane with a triumphant jealousy and Lily very much bemused.

"I—I hadn't noticed," she lied, resting her palm atop Snuffles' head.

"How could you not notice something like that?" Jane asked, looking curiously at Althea. "I would've noticed!"

Althea's cheeks were very hot. "I was reading, probably."

Jane's eyes narrowed. "Bertha said that you giggled when he transfigured your hair slide and that if those second-years hadn't interrupted, you two would've—"

"Good Lord, Bertha Jorkins is an absolute idiot!" she blurted out, sitting up. "So bored by the lack of excitement in her stupid life, she has to create absurd fantasies about other, more interesting people!"

The other two girls were quiet. Highly embarrassed, Althea pulled her knees to chest.

"Sorry," Althea murmured and rested her chin against her folded arms.

"Black can't be the writer of those letters," said Lily, scratching her arm.

Althea shot Lily a grateful look.

"He's more forward than that. He would have probably cornered Althea and asked her to go out with him by now." Lily picked up a blade of grass and twirled it with her delicate fingers. "He hates to lose at anything."

Jane perked up and a smile widened across her face. "Exactly! He doesn't want to lose! That's why he's writing the letters!" Jane smiled proudly at her deduction.

Lily dropped the blade of grass. "Let's hope not. He's just so bigheaded and cruel."

Althea felt an overwhelming urge to tell the girls how good Sirius had been to her and how she began to enjoy his company (he always seemed to find her at those perfect times when she was alone), but she stopped. She kept quiet and continued to scratch Snuffles behind the ears.

"Lily, please," Jane said, rolling her eyes, "Althea would say no to him anyway because she knows _I_ fancy him—remember Divination class in November?"

"Heavens, how could we forget?" Althea mumbled, lying down and resting her head against Snuffles's back.

Althea was happy she did not take Divination, or else she would have to hear Jane's predictions of her subsequent, celestially divined marriage to Sirius Black. However, she might as well have because Jane reveled in informing Althea of her predictions after every Divination class period. At least once a week, Jane would squeal as she examined her tealeaves at dinner. Somehow, to Jane, a large blob of wet tealeaves represented her destined marriage to Sirius, but to Althea, all she observed was a large blob of wet tealeaves in the bottom of Jane's cup.

"Althea, how can you do that? He might have fleas!" Jane exclaimed forgetting her exhausting explanation of the fateful Divination class.

"He _doesn't_ have fleas!" Althea defended and scratched Snuffles behind the ear. "Look, he didn't like that at all. He's growling at you, Jane—see—he doesn't like you at all."

Jane folded her arms. "I'm just glad you don't take that _thing_ up to our room."

Althea laughed. "Maybe I should. He could sleep in my bed."

Snuffles barked cheerfully.

"See, Snuffles likes that idea," giggled Althea.

"If you'd do that, I—I'd tell McGonagall," Jane threatened.

Althea looked at Lily and winked. Lily was biting her bottom lip to hide her laughter.

"Go ahead and tell her," she said with mock indifference. "It's just that—well—Black really likes dogs," she added and smiled.

Jane unfolded her arms and eagerly looked at Althea. "He does? How—how do you know?"

Althea glanced at Lily. Lily returned her gaze with a raised eyebrow. Althea winked—she hoped Lily would allow her a little fun at Jane's expense. Lily winked in approval and Althea smiled.

"At Quidditch practice a while ago, he had mentioned that he had a dog," Althea explained, and scratched Snuffles behind the ears. "Actually, it sort of looked like Snuffles here."

"Really?" Jane asked, wide-eyed.

Lily covered her mouth as she snickered.

"I reckon that it would be to your benefit to be nice to Snuffles. You never know when Black might show up," Althea said, impressed that she could hide her own laughter.

Jane reached to pet Snuffles, but he let out a ferocious growl. "That mongrel tried to bite me!" she shouted and held her hand to her chest.

Althea sat up. "He wasn't going to bite you!" she said fiercely. "And don't call him a mongrel," she added and scratched the whimpering Snuffles. "What would Black say if he heard you call Snuffles a mongrel?"

Jane wrinkled her nose. "He'd probably agree," she said curtly. "I don't like dogs."

"Then maybe you better start fancying his brother. I don't think he likes dogs," Althea said and winked.

"Althea, if you only had taken Divination," Jane said dreamily.

Althea rolled her eyes.

"Professor Cassandra said his true love would be made known in the upcoming months," she continued. "And _who_ did he take to the Winter Fête?"

Althea rolled her eyes again. "You, Jane, he took _you_ to the Winter Fête," she answered, exasperated. "Yes, it's _you_ Jane, _you_ who will be the future Mrs. Sirius Black. Lucky, lucky you. I will be envious as I will die an old spinster."

"Oh, you'll find someone, someday," Jane responded cheerfully.

"Maybe a nice Muggle," Althea replied drolly, imitating Jane.

Jane gasped. "A Muggle? Why would you want to marry a Muggle for?"

Althea frowned as she observed Jane. "Why wouldn't I?"

Althea, exhausted by Jane, looked at Lily. She obviously had enough of the conversation, and Althea couldn't agree more.

"Well, I'm going back inside. I need to revise more for the O.W.L.s," Lily said, standing. "I've put it off long enough."

"Me too. I'm so nervous about Transfiguration." Jane stood up as well.

_Good_, Althea thought, _that girl still can't transfigure a tortoise into a teapot_. She would finally have quiet, but she wished Lily had remained.

Althea did not stand. "I'll sit out here a bit more," she said and patted Snuffles on the head.

Althea watched as Jane and Lily returned to the castle. The sun was lower on the horizon and stars became visible in the upper stratosphere of the purple and orange sky. Althea removed the letter from the envelope. She reread the letter for the fourth time. What if what Jane said was true? Was Sirius writing those letters? How could she let him know she felt the same way? How could she tell Jane that she, too, fancied Sirius Black? She never wanted Lily in the middle.

Once more, her hand reached for the hollyhock in her hair. _How could I have been so stupid to leave this damn flower in my hair_? She closed her eyes and wondered the meaning behind his gesture. _It was very clever though_, she mused, smiling to herself. _Oh, but that bloody Jorkins! She must've been lurking about. Can't keep quiet about anything_.

Althea opened her eyes. "Why did he have to do this when Jorkins was round?" she said aloud and frowned. "Why was _she_ watching anyway?"

Snuffles growled.

"Oh, stop it, you silly dog," she said and kissed the top of his head. "I'm glad he didn't kiss me, Snuffles. You saw what happened…just imagine trying to get out of that one. Lily would never forgive me for doing that to Jane. Although…." Althea sighed. "Somehow, I do wish that it is Black writing those letters," she said aloud and scratched Snuffles behind the ears.

Snuffles barked happily and wagged his tail.

"Actually, I don't wish it. I _want_ it to be him."

Althea sighed longingly and stretched out her arms. Snuffles stood on all fours and began to jump around and chase his tail—much to the delight of Althea.

"You are a silly dog," she laughed, as Snuffles licked her face.


	20. Hogwarts, OWL Exams, June 1976

**Hogwarts, O.W.L. Exams, June 1976**

"You could've responded to my letter," Lily said, sitting down next to Althea. "Flitwick's so small he wouldn't have seen you over the desks."

"I know," Althea replied, resting the side of her face against her knees. "I didn't want it intercepted, though. But, I do think we should send Jane tonight—"

"Why me?" Jane interrupted, pouting.

"Because I'm a prefect and Althea's too suspicious. No one would suspect you were up to something. Plus, the House-elves love you," Lily answered, grinning and slipping on her left sock.

"Don't remind me," she murmured, looking over Althea's shoulder. "Oh, he's so gorgeous," she whispered dreamily as she tied her shoe.

Althea and Lily turned to see what Jane was looking at. James released the Snitch and caught it almost out of reach as Sirius haughtily looked around the lawn.

"Look at him, what's he looking round for?" Lily laughed, still looking at the four.

Althea frowned slightly. "He's allowed to look around," she replied as James made a fantastic catch of the Snitch.

Lily laughed once more. "Oh, don't _you_ defend him, Althea," she teased, nudging Althea in the shoulder. Suddenly, Lily stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow at Althea. "I never thought I'd ever utter such a thing."

Althea became uncomfortable. "What? I wasn't defending him. He's allowed to look around," she explained and bit her bottom lip. Althea's eyes widened as James almost didn't catch the Snitch. "Bloody hell, Potter, you lose the Snitch and I'll take a bat to your head."

Lily sighed as she shook her head. "As if I'm supposed to be impressed."

Jane stood up on her knees. "Peter is," she replied, wrinkling her nose as Peter squealed with delight.

"Maybe we should put a red wig on Peter and parade him round as you," Althea remarked, resting on her elbows.

"You'd think it would work?" Lily asked, giggling.

"We could try…in the dark, he wouldn't know."

Lily groaned, flinging herself back onto the grass. "Why do we have the most obnoxious boys of any year in our House?"

"You have to admit, though, they are entertaining," Jane said, rubbing her hands together.

Lily sat up. "To a point, Jane. The point being they know they're entertaining."

Althea's uneasiness increased as they continued to discuss the four. "Let's forget about them and concentrate on this beautiful day," she replied, crossing her legs at her ankles. "Jane, can't you look away from Black for at least five minutes?"

Lily laughed once more. "She couldn't. She kept staring at him as he sat for Defense Against the Dark Arts," she teased as Jane blushed.

Althea laughed. "You're hopeless, you know that."

"I'm not hopeless. I'm hopeful," Jane replied brightly.

"Ugh," Lily huffed, as the three turned in the direction of the loud, laughing voices. "Why don't they leave him alone?"

Althea shielded her face from the sun so she could see. "Bloody hell, now there's a crowd."

"Why doesn't Lupin do something? He's a prefect," Jane said, her eyes obviously transfixed on Sirius.

"They're his friends," Althea answered, watching Sirius and James advance on the defenseless Snape. "Plus, you've never been on the receiving end of one of Black's curses."

"What's it like?" Jane breathed and covered her mouth, her eyes widening as she watched Sirius.

"Painful," Althea said matter-of-factly. She shook her head, watching Sirius laugh as he taunted Snape, and murmured, "I can't believe I—" but stopped before finishing what could have been a humiliating statement.

"Can't believe what?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't believe I'm in the same House as that awful Black," Althea answered, deliberately looking Lily in the eye.

Lily looked at Althea suspiciously, but as James laughed loudly, Lily quickly turned her head. "Honestly, can't there be one day without this? We're tied with Ravenclaw and if we lose anymore points, I'll hex him myself," Lily replied, shaking her head. "I'm putting an end to this right now."

"Lily, I wouldn't," Althea warned, "it could make the situation worse."

"Believe me, I'll do worse to him," she replied angrily and stood. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"Me?" she asked, placing a hand to her breast. "What do you want me to do? Distract Black so he forgets about Snape? No, thank you," she remarked, looking toward the commotion. "I haven't been hoisted into the air since February and I'd prefer no one seeing my knickers, right?"

"Charm your skirt, then—"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted, shaking her head. "The Sticking Charm doesn't work and I don't want Black commenting on my knickers."

"Althea, you bend over and anyone can see anyway," Jane piped up and Althea glared at her. "Sorry, it's true."

"Right," Lily sighed with disappointment and frustration directed Althea.

Althea shrugged and watched as Lily turned on her heel and walked toward the crowd.

Althea lay against the cool grass and closed her eyes. The warm sunlight massaged her skin and warmed her body. _Why can't the O.W.L.'s take place outside_, she thought as she stroked the soft grass with her right hand. However, Lily yelling at James Potter broke Althea's early afternoon reverie. Althea sighed and brought her hands to her face. _Not again_, she thought, and raised herself up onto her elbows to see the uproar. She watched as Lily turned on her heel and left James standing, dumbfounded.

"Potter, Potter, Potter," she said aloud as James ran his fingers through his messy hair. "You will never date Lily if you keep acting like a stupid git."

_Not that I'd want you to win her…. I think she could do much better_, she thought and closed her eyes and lay back on the grass. _Of course, with my feelings for Black, anything's possible now_.

Althea heard frantic, quick footsteps and she opened her eyes. Out of breath, Jane blurted, "Snape—Snape just called Lily a—a—_you know_!"

Althea immediately sat to attention. The blood vessels in her arms began to constrict and she clenched her jaw in anger. No one ever called Lily Evans such a hateful name—at least not to her face…especially not her _good friend_.

"_He what_?" she growled as she stood.

"He called her a—a—_you know_," Jane said, not wanting to repeat what Snape had said. "Lily tried to stop Potter and she did—"

"She did?" Althea interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I was just as surprised, but Snape didn't appreciate it," Jane continued to explain and turned her head to look toward the crowd. "Oh, now we'll really lose House points!" she said fretfully, twisting her clasped hands.

Althea angrily turned her head in the direction of Snape and James. James had Snape upside down and a larger crowd had gathered. The crowd was laughing as James threatened to remove Snape's underpants. Althea shook her head in disgust…but not at James and Sirius. No, her anger was focused on Snape. _All these years, all those damn apologies! 'Be nice to him, Althea. He's my oldest and dearest friend. His father beats him! You don't understand!' Well, I bloody well do understand_! Lily could no longer make excuses for her friendship with Snape. Althea felt vindicated. She no longer had to feign at best indifference.

"You have to do something before a professor sees," Jane implored—her eyes looking from the crowd to Althea. "We can't lose House points!"

Althea laughed at Jane's request. "Me? What should I do?" she asked and felt surge of delight as Sirius started to spin Snape. "I want to hex him myself!"

"Go over there and stop them, of course!"

"Oh come on, Jane," she scoffed, folding her arms. "As if I could go over there and stop Black and Potter. I'd be upside down as well!"

"Lily did…briefly. I'll help."

"Bloody hell," Althea sighed as she imagined Jane—with all good intentions—accidentally hexing the entire crowd. "No, I think you should go find Lily," she continued and Jane smiled. "She'll need someone right now. Her oldest and dearest friend is an absolute bastard."

"So, you'll do it?" she asked happily.

Althea reluctantly nodded, and Jane—excited—quickly walked off to find Lily. _What the hell am I thinking_, she thought, watching Jane walk toward the castle. _They won't listen—I mean—Remus should be the one doing something, not me…and all I want to do is blast that Snivellus across this lawn_! Althea walked toward the dwindling crowd and took a deep breath—she still did not have a plan. Did she need a plan? Yes, of course, she needed a plan. She could disarm them, but that would be almost impossible, and if she did, she would hate to return to Gryffindor Tower that night.

James and Sirius laughed and taunted Snape as he floated upside down. Althea stopped behind the pair as she felt pangs of guilt—how could she have those feelings for someone so cruel? Here was Sirius at his most cruel point—publicly humiliating another human being for fun. Moreover, how could she find delight in it? _Serves him right_, she thought as Snape, upside down, frantically waved his arms and spurted out expletives and hexes. Still, Althea felt a little sorry for Snape—he looked pathetic—and in a few moments, it might be her in that position.

Althea took a deep breath as she approached the pair. "Put him down, Potter," she said, with a forced calmness—her wand pointed at the back of James's head.

James and Sirius turned to look at her and Sirius's mouth dropped open. "Morrigan, didn't you hear what he said about Evans?" James pleaded, pointing toward Snape, who attempted to right himself in the air. "He disrespected your best friend. Where's your loyalty?"

"I heard what he said, and it was wrong. I'd hex him myself, but put him down," she said, steadily holding her wand at his face. "We can't lose anymore House points."

"Morrigan, honestly, you wouldn't hex James now, would you?" Sirius asked and rested his arm on James' shoulder. "Not your Quidditch Captain?"

"Exactly, not your Quidditch Captain," James added, smiling.

"Black, you of all people should know what I'm capable of," Althea said, not lowering her wand. "Besides, we won the Quidditch Cup already. So, put him down."

Sirius threw his head back in disgust. "God, you really know how to ruin fun," he groaned and shoved his wand into his pocket. "Right, mate, it's lost its fun."

"No, it hasn't!" James laughed. "Who washes your underpants, Snivelly?"

Peter laughed shrilly.

"I'll tell Lily," she lied quickly and James's head abruptly turned to look at her. "I'll tell her that after she left, you let Snape go."

Snape stopped struggling. Althea fought a smile. She knew if there was one person Snape loathed more than anyone it was James Potter. _Serves you right, you awful wanker_, she thought as James eyed her.

"You would?"

Althea nodded.

She leaned close to James. "Let Lily deal with him later," she whispered. "You and I know that she's run off to the library to look up some particularly gruesome hex. It will be _spectacular_."

James shrugged and muttered the counter curse.

Snape fell to the ground and Althea bent down to help him collect his things.

"How dare you say that to Lily?" she whispered heatedly, handing him some pieces of parchment. "She has done nothing to you!"

"I don't need your charity!" he snapped, grabbing the parchment from her hands.

"Right," Althea said, tossing the parchment on the ground. "Lily doesn't need you either."

Snape mumbled something Althea did not hear, but Sirius charged forward with his wand ready to strike. "What did you call her?" he roared, pointing his wand at Snape.

Althea looked in the direction of Snape. A small, wicked smile spread across Snape's pallid face. "I called her a filthy, Muckblood tart," he said, shoving his papers into his bag. "Why should you care so much, Black?"

"You!" Sirius growled, but Althea raised her hand to his wand arm.

"No!" she yelled and forcefully lowered Sirius's arm.

Althea held onto Sirius's arm, which was still tightly holding his wand. She studied Sirius's reaction at this moment. She watched as he took in deep steady slow breaths, how his eyes flashed with rage, and how his teeth and jaw clenched in anger. Her heart skipped when she thought he was angry with Snape for her—maybe what Sirius had blurted out last month was true.

"Disgusting Muckblood!" Snape snarled. "Has to have Black come to her rescue."

"Stop!" Althea whispered to Sirius who was about to charge Snape. Her hand rested against his chest—his heart pounding powerfully against her hand. "He's not worth it."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Sirius snapped, pushing forward. "Let me go so I can curse this son of a bitch across the lake!"

"Struggled there a bit, Morrigan, in the Defense against the Dark Arts exam?" Snape taunted as she held Sirius back along with James—who held the back of his robe. "Realized, no doubt, that you can't receive an O by pouting or flirting?"

"Shut it!" Althea shouted and loosened her grip on a struggling Sirius. "I'll hex you myself!"

"Unlike the professors and the rest of this school, I can see through you. Oh, the _perfect_ Morrigan, who can do no wrong. Oh, everyone feel sorry for the _perfect_ Muckblood, whose dirty Mudblood father got himself blown up."

"_ENOUGH_!" Sirius roared and Althea let go of him.

Both raised their wands at Snape, but he was prepared and a beam of light spewed from the tip of Snape's wand. Althea felt herself falling to the ground—had she been hit? Stunned from the fall, she realized she was safe and she had not been hit with the curse. However, she felt enormous pressure on her chest and looked down. An unconscious Sirius was lying across her—he had pushed her out of the way and had taken the complete impact of the curse. _Bloody hell, this isn't good_, she thought as she rolled him off her and knelt at his side. Sirius lay sprawled across the lawn, unconscious, with a small amount of blood trickling from his nose. Panic escalated in her as other students began to crowd around the fallen Sirius and the kneeling Althea.

"Black!" Althea said, slapping his shoulder. "Black wake up!"

James knelt next to Sirius. "Is he all right?" he asked, frowning—worry developing in his eyes.

"I—I don't know," she answered, stroking the side of Sirius's face. "Black, wake up."

"Come on, mate, wake up," James said, shaking Sirius' shoulders.

"What sort of curse did he use on him?" she murmured, with her handkerchief wiping the blood from underneath Sirius's nose.

"I don't know," he replied, looking Sirius over. "Dark though—Snivelly will be in loads of trouble."

"Good," she muttered, "whatever it was, Snape deserves it right back. It's awful."

"Don't worry—wait, when did you start to care what happens to Sirius?" James asked with a smirk.

"What? I don't—wait, what?" she replied, feeling her face flush with warmth.

James laughed loudly. "Morrigan does have a heart!" he replied and slapped Sirius on the shoulder. "Wake up!"

"Don't you dare say anything!" she replied quickly as James continued to laugh.

"Your secret is safe with me," he began and looked around him, "and this crowd surrounding us."

"Damn it," she murmured, and frowned as she looked at James's face. "Oh, Potter, you're bleeding onto your robes."

James shrugged. "You can add it to what you tell Lily."

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "Why—why did he do this?" she asked, her fingertips touching Sirius's cheek—his skin was very soft. "It's not like him—Snape has never beaten Black—"

"Isn't it obvious?" James remarked, looking from Sirius to Althea. "You've made him stupid, Morrigan."

Slowly, Sirius began to show signs of consciousness. _Thank God, he's all right_, she thought, as she soothingly caressed the side of his face. Althea smiled as he opened his eyes, caught herself doing so, and quickly stopped. Carefully, he sat up and the crowd cheered.

"Are you all right?" Althea asked, and Sirius nodded his head.

"What's your name?" James asked, resting his hand on Sirius' back.

"I think I know my own name," he replied and rubbed his forehead. "Why am I on the ground though?"

"I think you should explain," she said to James. "I need to find Lily. Look after him."

Althea stood and started to walk toward the castle. In the confusion, the crowd had forgotten about Snape, who had finished collecting his things. It felt like lightening surging through her body as she watched Snape pick up his bag—everything negative anyone had ever said or did to her erupted inside her. The pain of abandonment, the hatred of her grandmother, and the confusion of her feelings for Sirius had found an outlet. How convenient Snape chose this day to insult Lily! She wanted to hurt Snape. Taking out her wand, Althea approached Snape.

"_Snape_," she said and waited for Snape to turn to face her.

Snape turned to face Althea, eyeing her with mild annoyance. "It's you."

"_INFLIGO_!" she roared as she thrust her wand in the direction of Snape's chest.

A flash of blue light erupted from the tip of her wand, making Althea take a step backward from the force. The large ball of blue light hit Snape in the chest and erupted all around him. The force of the eruption sent him flying backward in the air; he somersaulted and landed behind the bushes some fifteen-feet away. Althea's arm dropped to her side, and she tightly clutched her wand as she realized what she had done. She knew Snape lay motionless on the other side of the bushes. Althea turned around, disregarding the stares and open mouths of the smaller crowd, and walked away.

She kept walking, walking past her normal resting spot by the lake. She walked along the lakeshore on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Her body continued to buzz and to hum with adrenalin. It felt good. It felt _really_ good. She had never cursed anyone with such force or desire before. At this moment, she did not care what Lily would think. Snape deserved it. Althea wondered how many times Lily stood by or made excuses for Snape as he derided Althea. _He's never called me those things in her presence_, she thought and closed her eyes. Althea smiled as she realized she actually enjoyed watching Snape somersault through the air. She continued to replay the event in her mind as she walked further and further along the lake.

"Potter and Black will never let me live this down," she murmured. She levitated a pebble and tossed it into the lake.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her and she hid behind some bushes.

"Morrigan! Morrigan, where are you?"

Althea's heart felt as if it dropped to the bottom of her stomach—it was Sirius. Althea did not dare come out of the bushes—she stayed behind them silently observing Sirius. He paced back and forth shouting for her. Althea thought it strange that he would have followed her, and would have thought Jane or Lily would be the first to find her.

"Morrigan! There you are, Morrigan," he said, looking up at the tree.

Althea covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Perched upon one of the branches a raven ignored Sirius's pleas.

"Morrigan, come down here! That was bloody fantastic what you did back there! Snape just woke up! Morrigan, come down here," he said, staring at the raven in the tree. "Stop crowing at me."

Althea bit her lip to hide her laughter, but it was no use. She stood behind Sirius and laughed. Sirius quickly turned around to see a laughing Althea. He looked at her and then, back at the tree with the raven still perched on its branches. He ran his fingers through his thick black hair and laughed.

"So, you're all right?" Althea asked as she shoved her wand in her robe pocket.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all right," he said, walking toward her.

"Er—thank you for—before," Althea said clumsily and bit her bottom lip.

"You're welcome," Sirius said, and paused for a moment—running his fingers through his hair. "Morrigan, that was bloody brilliant," he added, smiling.

Althea lips curved into a small smile. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

Sirius let out a laugh of surprise. "It was nice to see someone else at the receiving end of one of your curses."

"I've never used that on you," she replied, feeling the back of her neck warm.

"I'm very pleased about that, too," he said and winked.

Althea's smile faded—she thought about the lost House points. "Damn. I really shouldn't have done that—"

"Yes, you should've!"

"No, really, I shouldn't have. I'm no better than he is now…and I really don't want to be like Snape," she explained and wrinkled her nose.

Sirius made a face. "I don't even think Snape wants to be Snape," he replied and Althea frowned. "You heard what Snape said—all those horrible things he said about you and Evans!" Sirius placed his hands on Althea's shoulders. Althea's body briefly became rigid underneath his touch. "He deserved it."

"He did, but—"

"It was Dark Magic, Morrigan. Do you think he would have let you walk away? No, he would have used Dark Magic against you—_Dark Magic_. You have no idea how horrible it is! Did you see the gash across James' face? Look what he did to me; there was no way he would have left you there unharmed."

Althea refused to answer his questions and refused to look at Sirius. "Now he has a reason to," she said quietly.

"Look at me," he said, turning her face toward his. "If Snape ever—_ever_ tries to hurt you—I'll kill him," he finished, staring into her eyes.

Althea was about to question his sincerity, but stopped when she saw the determination in his eyes. He leaned forward and quickly kissed her softly on the lips. Althea had no time to process what happened because he had taken her by the hand and was leading her back to the castle.

"I—I can't go back," she managed to say, stopping at her favorite spot by the lake.

"Yes, you will," he said and tried to pull her forward.

Althea was not about to move. "No, I can't. I can't face Lily."

"Oh, come on," he groaned, throwing his head back. Sighing, he took both of her hands and looked into her eyes. "You are coming back with me, right? You are going to take the Transfiguration O.W.L. and get an Outstanding on it," he demanded and gently squeezed her hands. "Don't worry. I told McGonagall it was me who did that to Snape."

"You did what? I can't let you do that," Althea said, blushing.

"Yes, you can. Now, let's get back," he said, taking her arm and the two walked forward. "We don't want any more rumors about us, do we?"

"No," she murmured as they walked toward the castle.

"You know, this last one was the worst," he explained and nodded with a smile as he saw James, standing by the beech tree.

"Madam Puddifoot's," she laughed, "like I'd ever go there."

"Right, how do you think I feel? I have a reputation to maintain. I take my girls to broom cupboards."

Althea frowned.

"It's a joke," he said and clapped James on the shoulder. "I don't."

James and Sirius shared a look, and Sirius winked, which caused Althea to frown. _What the hell is going on_, she thought as James smiled.

"Morrigan, you were amazing," James said, beaming. "Bloody brilliant," he added and patted her on the back.

"Come off it, Potter," she replied. "I sunk to your level. I intended to stop the both of you from us losing more House points."

James laughed and rolled his eyes. "We won't lose a House points for a thing like that," he replied, taking her arm and leaning close to her. "I had you all wrong, you know—can't be self-righteous all the time, can you?"

"Just leave me alone," Althea replied, breaking free from the both of them.

Sirius cast James a knowing look. "Anyway, Morrigan, this is cause for celebration," James continued, taking hold of Althea's arm. "You're coming out with us. What you did to Snape—I'm a little impressed," he whispered as he walked with her.

"You're easily impressed," Althea replied, frowning with a trace of amusement. "Wait, what are you talking about—'coming out with us'?"

James and Sirius smiled. "Tonight, we're going to have a little fun and you're invited," James said, winking.

Althea opened her mouth and turned her head from side to side to look at the two of them. "No, there is no way I am going with you two. No, no way," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, come on, Morrigan," James said, playfully nudging her. "We won't get into too much trouble."

"Well, not anymore trouble than we usually do," Sirius added, jokingly nudging her other side.

"Oh great, just enough to get us expelled," Althea remarked as she attempted to hide a small smile emerging from her face.

"Right, you sneak out as much as us," James said with mock indignation.

Althea stopped walking. "No, I don't," she replied, "and how would you know?"

"Oh we know, Morrigan," James replied in a fake ominous voice.

"We have our ways," Sirius added, with a wink.

"Come of it, Black," Althea said teasingly.

"It's the truth," Sirius said emphatically, staring into her eyes. "Would I lie?"

"Probably," Althea quickly responded. Sirius's mouth fell open in surprise, and James—laughing loudly—heartily patted her on the back, which made her stagger forward. "Honestly, I don't want to spend my evening with you both," she explained, breaking away from them.

"Would you rather spend your evening with one of us, then?" Sirius asked, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "James, perhaps?"

"No, I wouldn't," she replied, stooping to pick up her bag.

A smile slowly crept across Sirius's face. "Would you rather spend your evening with me, then?" he asked and the strap of her bag slipped from her shoulder, jerking her sideways.

Althea tightly clutched her bag and nervously bit her bottom lip—it had to be a joke. "I—I better go find Lily," she replied as Sirius' smile faded.

"When you find her, tell her my offer still stands," James said casually, winking.

Althea rolled her eyes and quickly walked off. The conversation had made her uncomfortable. Why would they want to spend the evening with her? When she dated Remus, they wanted nothing to do with her, and now she recognized that the pressures of his friends had doomed the relationship. _As if I would say, 'Sirius, would you like to spend the evening with Lily and myself?' Ridiculous_, she thought, walking into the castle. _It's not normal and it just doesn't happen. I don't care what they said, they don't do that sort of thing…. Unless they wanted me to persuade Lily. I would never do something so underhanded to my best friend! Lily's not the Quidditch Cup…her affections can't be won_.

Althea found Lily and Jane outside the Great Hall waiting for the next exam to begin. Lily did not say anything as Althea stopped and sat next to her on the floor. Althea rested her head against the cool wall and observed Lily as she intently studied for the Transfiguration exam. _You don't need to study, Lily_, she thought as her best friend turned the page. _You don't have to prove yourself to them. You're smarter than those pure-bloods could ever be—you're smarter than I could ever be, by far_, she thought as Lily looked something up in the index and turned back to the page she was reading. _All around, you're a better person, and I so want to be like you, but I fail miserably. Sometimes, I think I'm the bad influence—that I shouldn't be your friend; that you wouldn't do half of the things we do if I weren't here_.

"I'm sorry," Althea said quietly, peering over Lily's shoulder, "about what Snape said."

"Oh, never mind about that," she said, not looking up from her book. "I never want to talk of him again."

"Well then, what's bothering you, then? I've never seen you study Transfiguration with this concentration," she replied, and grabbed the book from Lily, and she made a half-hearted attempt to retrieve it.

Althea handed the book back to Lily. "It's Potter," she sighed, placing the book in her bag. "He asked me out again. He asked me out when he was taunting Snape." Althea nodded and Lily continued, "I just don't understand it. I asked him why he treated Snape that way, and would you like to know his reason?"

Althea nodded.

"He said because he existed. What type of reason is that?"

"Not a very good one," Althea responded, raising her knees to her chest.

"I just wish he'd leave me alone," Lily said angrily. "Almost everyday he asks me to go out with him. I thought by the second or third no he'd have stopped."

"He's a persistent berk, isn't he?" Althea remarked and winked.

"Althea!" Lily gasped.

For the first time Althea saw it. She had wondered for some time why Lily was slightly obsessed with James Potter's behavior. Lily watched James from the sidelines and commented to Althea on everything he did. At first, Althea thought this was Lily and her sometimes self-righteous attitude, but now Althea's thoughts had changed. Lily had a secret crush on James Potter. Althea let out a small laugh as she looked at Lily, and quickly covered her mouth. She should not laugh at her best friend—countless schoolgirls had fallen under Potter's charms.

"What is so funny?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Althea replied, shaking her head. "Nothing."

* * *

_What steps are involved in inanimate _

_to animate transformation_?

Althea stared at the last question—_what are the steps_, she thought, twirling her quill between her fingers. _Button to beetle? Teacup to tree frog_? She quickly wrote down the steps and easily added a few extra explanations to each step. Finished, she reread her answers and satisfactorily placed her parchment on the desk before her. She looked around at the other students busily writing and noticed she was the first student done. She was always a fast test-taker, but it never meant that she new the material any better than the other students—she just worked quickly. Althea sank back in her chair and quietly amused herself by observing her friends. Jane was frantically writing and then scribbling out her answers. Lily, on the other hand, chewed the end of her quill—thoughtfully looking at each question and carefully constructing her answer. _Of course, she'll get an Outstanding_, she thought, twirling her quill on her desk. _I never understand why she studies_.

Althea shifted her gaze back to Jane, who had now dejectedly set aside her test and went back to what she did best—staring longingly at Sirius Black. Sirius, of course, was unaware of—or indifferent to—Jane's undying devotion to him. Of course, he had plenty of girls that stared longingly at him with the same devotion as Jane. Jane was just another blue-eyed blonde shuffled in the mix. Althea questioned why Sirius had asked Jane to the Winter Fête. She thought Sirius barely recognized Jane's existence, and would be the last person to ask Jane to the Winter Fête. _Maybe he felt it out of some Gryffindor duty_, Althea thought as Jane sighed behind Sirius. _Jane was the only Gryffindor above fourth-year without a date—well, except for James and me. She had refused at least four boys, waiting for Sirius to ask her_.

Althea's eyes leisurely wandered to Sirius, who was sitting in front of Jane. She studied him intently as he concentrated on his O.W.L exam. Everything about him was smooth—even the movements of his hand, as he created the gentle strokes with his quill. The hand that created those gentle strokes was long and supple, but strong. Althea glided her gaze up Sirius's muscular arm to his casually bent head. His black hair rested leisurely against the thick black lashes encircling his grey eyes; she followed the refined narrow lines of his nose down to his lips.

Slowly, Althea raised her hand to her own mouth. She had forgotten, absorbed in the commotion and the exam that Sirius had kissed her. The blood quickly drained from her face as she slowly sank in her chair. How did it feel? She couldn't remember—something as important as that and she couldn't remember. Althea threw her head back in humorous frustration. Had she kissed him back? She leaned her head forward again and paused for a moment in an attempt to remember—she could not remember kissing him back. Althea gazed in Sirius's direction—he had finished his test and leaned back on the two legs of his chair. Jane's hands nervously caressed her desk as she forlornly gazed at Sirius. Althea understood that more than anything Jane wanted to touch him. If Jane could just touch his hair or just touch his back, Althea knew Jane would be satisfied for the moment.

A small, self-satisfying smile crept across Althea's face as she attempted to remember her guilty pleasure. He had danced with her, had comforted her, had protected her, and had kissed her—Jane just had that one night at the Winter Fête. Althea's stomach retched with guilt—he had not even kissed Jane at the Winter Fête. Just after Althea had left, he had left, too. Afterward, Jane mercilessly taunted her—it was Jane's night and Althea had ruined it. Althea could not stand one moment out of the spotlight, so she had to reclaim her divine right by dancing with Sirius. She knew she deserved the criticism and did not fight back. No matter how much she wanted to, Althea could never have a relationship with Sirius. She did not know how Jane would react to such news and was afraid to know. It would certainly devastate Jane, and the turmoil would engulf Lily. Lily meant everything to Althea, and she needed Lily more than ever.

However, Althea wanted to confront Sirius about the kiss. She wanted to ask him why he had kissed her, but felt ridiculous for thinking the question. What if it had meant nothing? Sirius was flirtatious. What if it was just an innocent cheer up kiss? However, Althea had to remind herself that innocent was not the first word that came to one's mind when describing Sirius.

* * *

Althea prayed that Lily never discovered what happened after she left the lawn. Unfortunately, Jane casually had mentioned the day's earlier events as she heard it from their fellow Gryffindor fifth-years, Mary Macdonald and Martha Lennon, after dinner.

"You did WHAT?" Lily scolded and folded her arms.

Althea quickly glanced at Jane. Was she imagining it, or did Jane have a smile on her face? _What is Jane up to_, she thought, frowning in her direction. Jane positioned herself next to Lily and smiled back at her—Althea clenched her hands into tight fists. Althea knew Jane naturally would not blurt something like this to Lily. _Unless...unless she wanted Lily to find out_, Althea thought, _that little backstabbing slag_. She directed her attention back to Lily and her heart sank into her stomach—Lily's eyes glistened from tears and her bottom lip trembled.

Althea sighed and took Lily's arm. "Let's go somewhere private," Althea said sullenly. "Jane, you understand, don't you?"

"Of course, I'll be in the common room if you need me," she said, and Althea thought she saw a small sparkle in Jane's eye.

Althea and Lily found an empty abandoned classroom to talk. Althea closed the door as Lily sat in an empty desk chair. She sat across from Lily and nervously folded her hands in her lap.

"Right, where should I begin?" she said quietly, and stared into Lily's disappointed eyes. "After you left, Potter and Black continued to taunt Snape. Jane came over frantic at what Snape said to you. I was so angry, but I went over with every intention of stopping it—"

"But something went terribly wrong."

"Lily, Potter let Snape go. Snape insulted me and Black heard," she said, not able to face Lily—she looked at Lily's tie instead. "Called me a 'Muckblood tart.' Black was about to hex Snape, but I stopped him."

"You stopped him?" Lily asked and moved closer to Althea.

Althea nodded. "Snape continued to insult me and then he insulted my father. He called my father a 'dirty Mudblood' and taunted my father's murder! I let go of Black—I wanted to hex him. Snape raised his wand too…but this time, Snape was faster and Black—Black pushed me out of the way so I wouldn't get hit," she said, and took in a deep breath. "Then—then I was so angry I blasted Snape across the lawn."

"You—you did that to Snape?"

"I'm so sorry. He's your friend and…well…damn it, Lily!" Althea stood and clenched her fists at her sides. "Friends don't say those things! Do you believe me now? Do you? If Black hadn't pushed me out of the way, I would've been hit with that curse! It was Dark Magic! There was blood! If Black hadn't protected me, it could've been _me_ bloodied and unconscious! How would you have excused that?"

"I couldn't—"

"Were you friends with Snape out of pity? 'Be nice to him, Althea, his home is awful.' It's what you'd say to me!"

Lily remained quiet.

"Do you tell Jane a similar story about me? 'Be nice to her, Jane, she hasn't got a mother'? Do you make excuses for me too? Are we friends because you pity me?"

"No!" Lily stood with her hands clenched at her sides. "How dare you even think—he's made his choice and I've made mine! I won't make anymore excuses for him." Small tears rolled down Lily's cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

Althea pulled Lily close to her. "I'm so sorry, too," she said as Lily shook against her.

Lily let go of Althea and wiped her eyes. "Thank you, for defending me," she said quietly. "I heard the curse was a sight to see."

"Yeah, well, Black is taking all the credit for it," she said ruefully as the two girls sat. "It's the best kept worst kept secret in Hogwarts history."

Lily took Althea's hands. "This isn't good, Althea. Now you're in Black's debt, and I don't want to know what he'd want in return," she said and frowned. "You have to stay away from him. You have to tell McGonagall it was you."

"Don't worry, I will tell her. I can't let him take the blame for what I did," Althea said and looked down at her shoes.

"You're not telling me everything that happened, are you?" Lily asked and craned her neck to be face to face with Althea.

Althea's stomach somersaulted. "Lily…Black…kissed me," she said and winced.

Lily sat up and covered her mouth in shock. "Did you slap him?"

Althea shook her head.

"Hex him?"

Althea shook her head once more.

"Did you kiss him back?" Lily face paled.

Althea shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I—I don't remember. Maybe…maybe not…it happened so quickly."

Lily gasped and waved her finger at Althea. "You—you fancy him, don't you?"

"What—what are you talking about? I don't—"

"Don't you dare lie! You _do_ fancy him!" Lily said ardently. "I remember you telling me that you could handle him and if you did fancy him he'd cursed you," she said, resting her hands on Althea's arms. "Maybe he has cursed you?"

Althea shook her head. "No, he hasn't cursed me."

"So, you fancy him?" Lily replied, frowning, and took her hands off Althea. She folded her arms and studied her friend.

Althea felt awkward. "Do you think I like this? I didn't want to fancy him, but it happened—slowly—but it happened," she explained and stood. She leaned against the teacher's desk and kicked the ground with her shoe. "He's different, Lily. I don't know how to explain it. Something _did_ happen this year…. Do you—do you think he fancies me?"

Althea looked up at Lily, who seemed to struggle with her answer. "I reckon after today, his feelings for you are very clear," she said and stood. "He couldn't control how he felt…. Oh, but you know the rumors, Althea. Remember behind the greenhouse? Remember in the broom cupboard next to the Great Hall? Remember in one of the abandoned classrooms? He'd use you like those other girls," she added as she leaned against the teacher's desk. "You deserve better."

"Don't you think I know that?" she replied, rubbing her forehead. "Lily, nothing will ever become of my feelings. I know how much Jane fancies him, and I know what would happen if Black and I were ever to date. I couldn't do that to Jane."

Lily rested her hand on Althea's back. "Very true," she said, "but Jane is just as infatuated with his brother. She'd take either, actually."

"Do you think he wrote those letters to me?" she asked and rested her head on Lily's shoulder.

Lily rested the side of her face atop Althea's head. "I don't believe so," she said. "His actions are very direct and the letter writer has gone to great lengths for you not to discover him—to go as far as making the letters untraceable. It's very advanced magic. Black is intelligent, but not that intelligent for that sort of magic."

_He is an Animagus_, Althea thought.

"I do wish I knew who was writing them," she said and sighed.

"He'll make himself known by the end of term."

"You think so?" Althea asked and lifted her head from Lily's shoulder.

Lily nodded. "You'll have to make a decision, then: Black or the letter writer."

Althea smiled faintly. "I have to choose the letter writer, haven't I?"


	21. Hogwarts, Evening, June 1976

**Hogwarts, Evening after O.W.L. Exams, June 1976**

_It's too quiet_, Althea thought apprehensively, as she looked over the top of the novel she was reading. The three first-year students that were sitting at one of the common room tables had left; the two second-years had finished playing wizard chess and were walking up the stairs to the dormitories. Uneasy, she closed her book and looked around her—she was alone. _What are Potter and Black planning_, she thought as she opened her book. _I hope they aren't planning anything—just trying to frighten me at dinner, that's all. Come on, Lily, your Charms Club meeting should be over_. Althea sighed nervously, taking one last look around the room, and continued to read:

_Romola's eyes were stormy as the sea before her. The green and black water churned and swirled, the salty mist intermingling with her tears._

_"Oh, Rodolfo!" she sobbed as the wind swept her auburn hair in its embrace._

"Oh please," Althea murmured and stuck out her tongue.

She giggled lowly as she flipped through Jane's worn copy of _Romola of the Sea: A Muggle Seafaring Tale_. She stopped toward the end of the book and shook with quiet laughter:

_The sea captain's daughter raised her hands to the sea, her thin, black shawl slipped from her slender shoulders. She stepped forward into the murky water, her feet numb from the cold, but how she wished it were her heart!_

_"I will join you, my love," she wept as the waves rose higher. "I will join you—"_

Althea snapped the book shut. "Bloody rubbish," she sighed, stretching her arms out before her.

She unceremoniously tossed the book upon the table and the doe-eyed woman on the cover braced herself upon impact. _That one was too boring for a laugh_, she thought, taking a folded piece of parchment in her hand. That evening at dinner, a school owl delivered another letter for Althea to curious looks and stares. In the past, her admirer's letters would arrive with the general post, but his gesture was bold, important. Althea reread the letter for what seemed to be the thirtieth time:

_This will be my last letter…._

Althea frowned thoughtfully as her fingers traced each sentence—who could have written her those letters? She wished with all her heart that this letter—the final letter—would have been signed. She had promised herself at the beginning that she would not develop feelings for the mystery writer, as it could have been a joke. Nevertheless, with every letter, he seduced her; every word, he intoxicated her. She was only fifteen and the feelings that swam inside her frightened and excited her. She had to find out who had written her, but this letter, like the others, was untraceable.

Althea sighed heavily and allowed her hand that held the letter to fall limp at her side. What was she to do? Would her admirer make himself known? By the letter, it seemed not. The end of term was approaching and she would soon board the train to spend the summer with her grandmother. Althea ran her slender fingers through her hair and recounted the boys she and her friends thought could be the mystery writer. When she thought of Sirius, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach—she had hoped that he was the writer of her letters, but Lily's argument against him was convincing. By all interactions, Sirius was direct and the admirer went to great lengths for her not to discover his identity. _If what Lily says is true and he does fancy me, I don't think he wants to admit it and I don't think he ever will_, she thought, studying the handwriting. It did not look like his handwriting or the handwriting of his friends.

Althea remembered that early afternoon upon the school grounds, and suddenly, a terrible thought bombarded Althea's mind—what if he had already told, or at least shown her his true feelings? Althea winced at the thought. When had Sirius Black ever been defeated in a duel with Snape? Althea leaned forward—her eyes seemingly looking through the sofa—she could not remember an instance for Sirius never gave Snape the chance. _He kissed you, you silly girl_, she thought and clasped her hand over her mouth. Instantaneously, memories flooded her mind—the Winter Fête, that night on the school grounds, stealing the _Daily Prophets_, and how he always seemed to mange to find her, alone. The only magic he performed upon her in the last four months was to change her hair slide into a hollyhock. He hadn't hoisted her into the air for ages.

She did not want to see those things. She did not want to see that he might reciprocate her feelings. It made it easier for her to deal with them, to conceal them from her and others. Now, she knew he had feelings for her as well—and how it complicated the situation! She had rationalized that it was all right to have those feelings because nothing would come from them. Jane was the one he was supposed to like—not Althea. Jane was giggly and compliant—the sort of girl Sirius would want. She was petite and blonde—a very pretty girl—with breasts Althea were convinced she managed to charm that way. Why would he want a girl that wouldn't hesitate to hex him? She pulled her knees to her chest. Why would she want a boy that would do the same? Althea rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand—it was all very strange. If she could only change his mind….

Of course! She would lie to him. She would tell him that she did not fancy him, and whatever feelings she had led him to believe she had were a joke. It was a joke she concocted after he almost drowned her. _No, I can't be that cruel_, she thought, resting her chin upon her folded arms. _He'll know my feelings aren't a joke—he must know. Damn it, I should've been more guarded_! He would understand friendship, though. He would understand loyalty. She would explain to him that despite any feelings she had, she could not date him because of Jane. Her friendships with Lily and Jane were too important to jeopardize. She looked to the letter in her hand. _I'll show him the letter and say that he's too late…that I have someone—even if I lie and say he's some Muggle_. How she wished her secret admirer would make himself known to her!

"This isn't supposed to happen," she murmured, looking ahead of her. "We're not—_I'm_ not," she continued, her eyes widening slightly. She lightly scratched the tip of her nose. "I'll hex him at breakfast."

Suddenly, the portrait swung open and jolted Althea from her thoughts. She quickly sat up and stuffed the letter into the wand pocket of her dress. Sirius, his head bent and hands in his trouser pockets, casually entered the common room. He looked up, tossed the shiny black hair from his grey eyes, and surveyed the common room with the air of boredom. He smiled crookedly at Althea, and Althea, smiled—her heart beating a little faster as he walked toward her.

"Evening, Morrigan," he said as he sat next to her.

"Hello," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Beautiful night," he said, resting his feet upon the table before them.

"I—I wouldn't know," she said and shrugged. "I've been here all evening."

"Pity," he sighed. "Where's Evans?"

Althea laughed nervously. "Why do you care?"

Sirius shrugged.

"Where's Potter?"

Sirius laughed quietly. "Maybe they're together."

"Likely."

"So," he said and frowned slightly, "McGonagall didn't give you a detention?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "She went pink at what happened…said she'd speak to Slughorn about it."

Sirius nodded to himself. "So…you're free, then?"

Althea slowly blinked. Free? What did he mean by 'free'? Was he asking her on a date? She quickly clenched her hands into tight fists to stave off her nervous trembling.

"So…?"

Althea nodded.

There was a faint pink to Sirius's cheeks. "D'you like Quidditch—I mean—professional Quidditch?"

Althea raised an eyebrow. "Yeah—"

"Good," he said and took two rectangular pieces of paper from his pocket.

He handed Althea one of the pieces of paper. Althea looked upon the grey colored paper—it was a ticket for the Holyhead Harpies vs. the Montrose Magpies. The game was tonight. Althea looked up from the ticket to Sirius.

"I thought you'd—"

"It's tonight."

"Well, yeah," he said and swallowed. "Tonight."

Althea looked to the grey ticket once more. The Snitch zoomed and twirled along the border of the ticket. Sirius Black wanted to spend his evening with her. It wasn't Madam Puddifoot's—it was Quidditch. _Maybe he considers me one of his mates_, she thought, turning over the ticket. Boys didn't take girls to Quidditch games for dates.

"If you don't want to—"

"I want to," she said, her eyes transfixed upon the ticket.

"You'll go, then?"

"But, what about—"

"_Morrigan_—"

"School—"

"So?"

"Black, no," she replied, shaking her head as Sirius smiled eagerly. "I want to, but I really shouldn't. We could get into massive—"

Sirius folded his arms as he leaned close. "You're afraid you might enjoy yourself."

"Afraid? I'm not afraid—"

"Yes, you are," he replied—a wry smile playing across his lips, "you coward."

"How dare you call me a coward?" she laughed with astonishment. "I'm suspicious, that's all."

"Suspicious?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow in thought. "You have nothing to be suspicious about. I promise," he said, placing his hand over his heart, "on my honor—don't laugh, Morrigan—on my honor to be a proper gentleman to you this evening."

"Right, Black," she remarked, looking at him with utmost amusement.

"Please, in the spirit of Gryffindor unity, call me Sirius," he replied, taking hold of her hand.

Althea laughed, pulling her hand from him. "Spirit of Gryffindor unity," she murmured with a small wry smile. "I have every right to be suspicious. You've treated me horribly these past five years—"

"_Me_?" he interrupted with humorous surprise. "What about _you_?"

"You made my hair fall out."

"You gave me blisters on my hands," he said, leaning closer.

"You made me eat a Cockroach Cluster."

Sirius laughed as he obviously remembered the incident their third-year. "You added extra ingredients to explode my cauldron," he said, bending his head toward her.

Althea took in a sharp breath. "You hoisted me into the air," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"You threw books at my head," he murmured, his warm breath playing against her lips—it smelled of peppermint. "Will you go?"

The urge to kiss him too great, Althea absently nodded her head.

Suddenly, the portrait door creaked open and the two quickly parted—Sirius, his expression annoyed, and Althea wide-eyed. Lily wiped her eyes as she entered the common room and stopped before Althea. She raised an eyebrow at the couple.

"What happened?" Althea asked, sitting forward.

Lily, here eyes red, looked toward the floor.

"I have to go," Althea said, not removing her gaze from Lily.

Lily sniffed.

"I'll find you," he whispered, his fingertips gently gliding up and down her bare arm.

Althea nodded.

"Evans," he nodded.

Lily did not reply, but grabbed Althea's hand and pulled her off the sofa. She quickly led them toward the girls' dormitory staircase. Althea did not need to look back; she could feel his eyes upon her. The two girls entered their dormitory with Lily slowly sitting upon the edge of her bed—her eyes still downcast. Althea sat next to Lily and placed her arm around her. Lily rested the side of her face against Althea's shoulder and sighed mournfully.

"He cornered me after Charms Club," Lily said. "He was so awful, then."

Althea pulled Lily close and rested her head atop Lily's.

"He told me what I was…a witch," she said quietly. "I should've seen it then. He spoke so poorly to my sister—_my sister_—but I—I sided with him. We were the same."

Althea remained quiet, but the hatred for Snape bubbled inside her. _He never deserved you_, she thought, and kissed Lily's forehead.

"I relied on him," she said, new tears falling upon Althea's lilac dress. "He knew so much about magic, but it was Dark Magic. I should've seen…how am I different?"

Althea tenderly stroked Lily's back.

"You were right," she said, a sob caught in her throat. "You were so right!"

A small feeling of vindication licked at Althea's insides. _Finally_, she thought, suppressing a self-serving smile.

"I thought he was jealous of our friendship—he is a bit of a jealous sort," she said, lifting herself from Althea. She furrowed her brow. "He laughed off what Mulciber did to Mary. He laughed it off," she explained, her expression pained as her eyes bright with tears looked upon Althea. "He compared it to Potter and Black—"

"Black isn't Dark—"

"I know," she said and shook her head. Lily reached for Althea's hand. "I know what he said to you, Althea, and I hate him for it. What he called you, what he said about your father, I can never forgive him—"

"What about you?" Althea reminded. "You've given him nothing but friendship—more than he ever deserved—and look what he did! He betrayed you."

Lily nodded. "I shouldn't be an exception," she said and Althea squeezed Lily's hand. "I know you've kept it from me, but everything was confirmed when I confronted Black—"

"You did?"

"Yes, and he confirmed all the horrible things Snape has said to you and to the others," she explained, her lip trembling. "I'm so sorry."

Althea took Lily into her arms. "No," she whispered heatedly, "don't you dare apologize for him. You've done nothing."

Althea gently rocked Lily as Lily cried against her. _Damn you, Snape_, she thought, closing her eyes. She imagined herself hexing Snape an hundred times over, but that was not good enough. It was inconceivable to Althea that one would forsake his friendship with Lily Evans. Lily was generous and kind, exceptionally loyal, and listened without judgment. Althea vowed to herself that she would spend the rest of her Hogwarts career helping Lily forget about her weak former friend.

"I love you," Lily said and Althea warmly smiled, "even though Sirius Black tried to kiss you and you did nothing to stop him."

Althea became rigid.

Lily shook with laughter. "I don't understand him…or you," she said and released herself from Althea. "Well, he is nice to look at."

Althea's cheeks flushed. "I know what I said," she said and lightly chewed her bottom lip. "It's just…he's asked me out."

Lily's eyes widened and she slowly smiled. "What did you say?"

Althea smoothed the skirt of her dress. "I said, 'yes,'" she said, avoiding Lily's eyes. "It's just one date—nothing more—"

"Where is he taking you?" she asked. "Not Madam Puddifoot's during a Hogsmeade visit?"

Althea vigorously shook her head. "No, Quidditch."

Lily caught her breath and smiled. "That's not very romantic, is it?"

"No."

"But you don't even really like—"

"I know," she said and scratched her forehead. "I just like flying."

"I've never heard of him taking a girl to a Quidditch match," she teased and playfully nudged Althea.

Althea smiled weakly. "We never paid much attention," she replied and giggled lowly. "Broom cupboards."

Lily giggled louder. "Broom sheds," she said, the look of laughter lingering upon her face. "I reckon the both of you are touched in the head after that."

"I reckon so."

* * *

Althea stared at the burgundy canopy. With each tick of the clock, her apprehension grew—Sirius expected her at eight-thirty. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils. Could she actually go through with it? Still uneasy, the thought that Sirius wanted to spend the evening with her was enticing. _It's just one date_, she thought, sitting up. _It's Quidditch and I can ignore him. There will be loads of people, too_. She walked over to the mirror and sighed. She looked all right, didn't she? What should one wear to a professional Quidditch match? She looked over her shoulder and smiled—she did like how her bottom looked in those jeans.

_Snap…snap_.

Althea turned her head in the direction of the windows.

_Snap…snap_.

"An owl this late?" she whispered, walking in the direction of the window.

_Snap…snap_.

"An impatient bird, isn't he?" she muttered and unlatched the window lock.

There, upon his Nimbus 1500, sat Sirius Black, hovering at her window. Dressed in a black t-shirt with the emblem of the Magpies and jeans, his hair perfectly windswept, he smiled up at her. _God, you look so good_, she thought, leaning out of the window.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking out around her window. "You'll get in massive trouble if McGonagall sees you—"

"I don't care," he said and shrugged. "Can't we have a bit of fun?"

"Fun? Come off it," she said, pushed herself off the windowsill. "I really shouldn't. Goodnight—"

"Wait," Sirius said, thrusting his arm through the opened window.

"Lily will be back soon," she said, turning her head toward the door. "You know what happened—"

"Mary, Jane, and Martha are there," he said and waved the tickets. "Harpies and Magpies. _Quidditch_."

"I know, but—"

Sirius placed the tickets in his shirt pocket. "Don't be a coward—"

"Coward? I'm not a coward."

"Come out with me," he said, with a pleading smile. "I promise I won't take you to Madam Puddifoot's after the match."

Althea's stomach flipped at the thought of closely holding Sirius as they flew to the Quidditch match and what the rest of the night held. Sirius—his expression hopeful and eager—held out his hand. Althea looked to it. _Don't be a coward and go with him_, she thought, looking at this hand.

"Right," she breathed as she nodded her head. "I'll go."

Sirius slowly grinned. "So, you'll come out with me, then?"

Althea's stomach flipped again at his sincerity. "Yes," she replied and gently bit her bottom lip. She took Sirius's hand.

"Brilliant," Sirius replied and squeezed her hand. "Come on, I promise you won't be disappointed."

* * *

Sirius peeled at the label of his bottle of Butterbeer as the two sat in a booth at the Three Broomsticks. For late evening, the pub was just as busy as a Hogsmeade visit with Rosmerta's father busy behind the bar, pouring glasses of amber mead, and Rosmerta maneuvering between tables, deftly carrying her tray. Althea stared at her full bottle of Butterbeer. It was ten o'clock. She should be in her dormitory, but she agreed to join Sirius for a bottle of Butterbeer. _They know we're students_, she thought, watching a bead of condensation lazily drip from the bottle onto the table. _We'll be expelled_.

"It wasn't much of a match, was it?" Sirius said to break the quiet.

Althea shook her head. "Catching the Snitch twenty minutes in…at least it didn't last for days," she said, pulling the cool bottle toward her. "We'd certainly be expelled."

"Nah," he said and sniffed. "Dumbledore wouldn't expel you for something like that."

"Oh," she murmured and took a sip of Butterbeer. "What did you think of O.W.L.s?"

She cringed—such a boring topic!

Sirius shrugged. "Easy," he said and smiled. He leaned back in the booth. "Nothing less than Outstanding."

Althea fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Right, Lily told me of your Divination O.W.L.," she said, folding her arms. "You had the eighty-year-old examiner blushing and giggling. You didn't predict one thing."

"I can't help it if I'm charming," he replied, fighting a smile. "Anyway, I'm not the one who wore constellation knickers for the Astronomy O.W.L.," he continued, motioning with his hand toward her legs. "Anyone could have looked at your bum and got the answers."

Althea's hands slammed against the table—jostling the bottles—and opened her mouth in protest. "Why are you looking at my knickers?"

"How can I not?" he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm affronted with them everyday."

"Then don't look."

"Wear your skirts longer, then," he replied, lifting his bottle to his lips. "You'd think by the twelfth violation, you'd lengthen your skirt."

Althea sighed. "As I told McGonagall, it's the _style_, and _how_ could she object when I was wearing tartan knickers," she explained and looked at him quizzically. "When did you start to follow school rules?"

"I've followed plenty of school rules."

Althea laughed knowingly. "Likely."

"Morrigan—"

"In the spirit of Gryffindor unity, call me Althea."

"Althea," he said and smiled. Althea enjoyed the way he said her name. "You're currently out of bounds, too."

"I know," she said and made a face.

Althea surveyed the crowd. Wizards and witches laughed and chatted away, unconcerned or oblivious to two underage wizards in the Three Broomsticks. _Maybe we won't get caught_, she thought, glancing toward Sirius. Sirius was softly singing to himself, and Althea thought it was Orpheus. Orpheus was the most popular Wizarding rock band of the moment, and fronted by the handsome and charismatic (and some would say purveyor in debauchery) Alexander Star, their sound reminded one of the Muggle band Deep Purple. The band's most popular song at the moment was called, 'The Dementor's Kiss,' and although most Wizarding parents would find fault with that disturbing song title, some Wizarding parents found fault with the band's more subversive and taboo _Muggle_ subjects.

"You like Orpheus?"

Althea's question broke Sirius from his musical reverie. "Oh yeah," he said, tossing the hair from his eyes. "I have all their albums."

"Me too," she said and lightly bit her bottom lip.

"You know," he said, leaning closer to her, "the Ministry is thinking about investigating them."

"What?"

Sirius nodded. "For 'Motorway Mabel,'" he explained and laughed to himself. "Corruption of Wizarding society through the disclosure of unsavory carnal Muggle acts or something ridiculous like that," he said, seeming to revel in Althea's shock. "My cousin's daft fiancé is leading the cause."

"The song is about a car," she said, folding her arms. "How stupid can one be?"

Sirius hesitated. "Yeah, a car," he said and smiled with slight condescension at Althea. "It's not any worse than what Muggles sing about."

"Like you know anything about Muggle music, _wizard_," she said and took a sip from her bottle.

"Oi," he said, and pointed his forefinger at her, "you're a witch."

"Yeah, but I know a lot about Muggle music," she replied, sitting closer to him. "I have to play Muggle when I'm round Gran."

"I know a lot, too," Sirius replied and took another drink. "John Lennon, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin—"

"You like Led Zeppelin?" she interrupted with a mixture of admiration and surprise.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "You like them?"

"I love them," she said, peeling away the edge of the bottle label.

"Right," Sirius breathed and lifted the bottle to his lips. "D'you like AC/DC?"

Althea frowned and shook her head. "I haven't heard of them."

"What?" he laughed, raising his eyebrows. "You haven't heard of them? How haven't—"

"I don't know _every_ Muggle band, you know," she said, tearing off part of the label. "Do you like Abba?"

Sirius, puzzled, shook his head.

_Of course, you wouldn't know about them_, she thought, rolling the torn label into a ball between her thumb and forefinger.

Rosmerta rested her palms against the table. "More Butterbeer?" she asked, leaning a little too low upon the table.

"Rosmerta," Sirius murmured and smiled.

Althea narrowed her eyes at Rosmerta. "I'm fine, thanks," she said as Rosmerta ignored her.

"I'll have more," Sirius said and held up his empty bottle.

Rosmerta winked at Sirius. "Right."

Jealously seethed inside Althea as Rosmerta chatted up Sirius. _Who does she think she is_, she thought, roughly crushing the small ball of paper between her thumb and forefinger. _And him_!

"A new friend, I see," she said, finally eying Althea.

Sirius nodded. "I reckon Althea would like more, as well," he said and smiled. "Two Butterbeers?"

Rosmerta frowned and nodded. "Straight away."

Once Rosmerta left, Althea leaned back in the booth and folded her arms—fuming. "I want to go back to Hogwarts."

"What? No—"

"You can stay if you like," she said as Rosmerta ruffled a wizard's hair. "She seemed keen for you to do so."

"I don't think I'd have as much fun," he said, spinning the bottle upon the table. "James and I…we come here often."

"To see her?"

Sirius ignored her question and Rosmerta giggled and pinched the cheek of an elderly wizard.

"So, the rumors are true?" she said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know you're talking about," he said, flustered, and spun the bottle with more vigor. "Absolute rubbish."

Althea felt her cheeks and neck flush with warmth. _It is true_, she thought, as Sirius seemed transfixed on his spinning bottle. _Sirius and Rosmerta_. Althea narrowed her eyes at Rosmerta, who playfully tugged at a wizard's cravat. She understood that feeling for she would never tell Sirius that she slept with one of his good friends. She wondered how Remus would feel about her going on this date with Sirius. He would have to know, wouldn't he?

"Jane will definitely be disappointed. She lived on those rumors."

Sirius stopped the spinning bottle. "She did?" he asked—his lips curved into an amused smile.

"I think most girls do," she said. "Bertha Jorkins, especially."

"Really?" he murmured, scratching his chin. "Do you?"

Althea shook her head. "I form my opinions from my own interactions."

"So, you must hate me, then?" he asked with a small smile.

"No."

"No?"

Althea gently bit her bottom lip.

Sirius's expression was hopeful. "Do you fancy me, then?"

"Butterbeer?" Rosmerta said and placed a cold bottle in front of Sirius.

Sirius did not acknowledge Rosmerta's presence. Instead, he stared intently at Althea.

"She brought you another one," she said, pointing to the bottle.

"Oh—oh right," he said, his eyes locked with Althea's, "cheers, thanks."

_Just say it, you silly girl_, she thought as he studied her face. _Tell him that you fancy him_.

"Why did you ask Jane to the Winter Fête?"

He cleared his throat and frowned. "I took her because the girl I wanted to take was already taken," he said and took a gulp of Butterbeer.

Althea's stomach somersaulted, but she was not sure if it was from the excessive amount of that butterscotch liquid or his reply. "Who?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows as he took another gulp of Butterbeer.

"Who?" she asked again, her voice barely audible.

"The most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts," he replied, looking into her eyes.

Althea inhaled deeply, the tingling sensation dispersing throughout her body. He thought her beautiful. _How very odd_, she thought, lightly licking her lips. _He thought me ugly—teased me so—and…maybe he is touched in the head_?

"I—I really should go," she said and attempted to stand. "It's late."

"Don't—don't leave," he replied, taking hold of her hand. "You haven't finished your Butterbeer—she brought you another."

Althea looked upon their hands—she rather liked how her hand fit in his. "I—I won't, then."

"Right," he said and gently squeezed her hand.

Althea's eyes widened and she quickly let go of his hand. "Ursula Rigg is very beautiful."

"Yeah, if you like that sort of girl."

"You don't like her?" she asked, the knot in her stomach had returned.

Sirius scratched his chin as he shook his head. "No," he replied and sniffed loudly.

"But you just said—"

"I know what I said, but she's not the most beautiful girl. Honestly, she has a nice face and that's about it."

"Really?" she breathed and Sirius nodded. "Who is the most beautiful girl, then?"

Sirius took a long sip of Butterbeer and roughly wiped his mouth—still holding the bottle in his hands. "She's in Gryffindor," he answered, smiling to himself.

"Eulalia Bennett?"

"She's a bit daft," he remarked and shook his head. "Are you going to name all the Gryffindor girls?"

"If I have to," she replied and laughed as Sirius muttered something under his breath. "Lily? Mary? Martha?"

"It's obvious, _Althea_," he said and winked. "_Althea_, it's very obvious."

"Obvious to _you_," she remarked and took a sip of cold Butterbeer.

Althea smiled to herself—her neck and spine tingling with excitement. _I just want to hear you say it_.

"A gillywater, Rosmerta."

Althea gasped and felt Sirius's hand forcefully push her head down. _McGonagall_, she thought as the two hid under the table. Althea bit her lip at her cramped position—a painful twinge had started in her calf. Sirius sighed with annoyance as he listened to McGonagall and her female companion. He didn't seem too scared.

"Gillywater, Minny?" the woman said. "You'll need more than gillywater to speak with Agnes."

Sirius quietly shook with laughter. "Minny?" he mouthed.

Althea tugged at the leg of his jeans and gave him a warning look.

"I don't need Firewhiskey to pluck up my courage, V," McGonagall replied. "Gillywater it will be, Rosmerta, thank you."

Sirius reached out and pulled at Rosmerta's dress. Rosmerta stepped in front of the table and bent as if she were to pick up something.

"Right," she whispered and winked at Sirius. "Bring James next time, will you?"

Althea stuck her tongue out as Rosmerta walked away.

Sirius leaned forward, resting his cheek against Althea's. "Right," he whispered, "Rosmerta will give us a distraction, and when she does, follow me."

Althea nodded.

"She is an awful woman," the woman named V said. "How we ever—"

V's words were overtaken by the sound of glass and metal falling to the floor. Sirius grabbed Althea's hand and pulled her from out underneath the table—the scene of falling chairs and overturned tables a blur to her. The two ran at full speed into the darkened street dimly illuminated by gas lamps. Sirius, still holding her hand, stopped and Althea spun from the momentum.

Breathing heavily, he laughed and swept the black hair from his eyes. "I reckon I owe her a few bottles of mead," he said, grinning. "Are you all right?"

Althea nodded.

"Come on," he said and squeezed her hand, "back to Hogwarts."

_I should've asked him where at Hogwarts_, she thought as she stepped on to the roof. Sirius flew over to one of the many chimneys and dismounted from his broom. Althea rose and fell on the falls of her feet—it was an impressive view: the Hogwarts grounds were quiet and serene and the black lake shimmered in the moonlight. She wondered how often Sirius would fly up, or if he had taken girls previously to this spot.

"Have you ever been up here?" he asked, walking toward Althea.

Althea shook her head. She looked up at the sky to the thousands of stars that twinkled. "It's lovely, though."

Sirius looked up at the sky. "Yeah," he said and smiled, "beautiful."

Althea felt her entire body flush with warmth. No Quidditch. No Three Broomsticks. No crowd to interrupt them. She nervously clasped her hands behind her.

"You know," he said, stepping forward, "we should do things more often."

"You think so?"

Sirius nodded. "Why not? It wasn't that bad," he said and frowned playfully, "or maybe it was."

Althea laughed quietly. "If you say so."

Sirius smiled crookedly and slipped his left arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest, and she inhaled a shaky breath to calm herself down, but it was of no use. She hesitated in closing her eyes as Sirius, eyes closed, bent his head forward. She caught her breath. Sirius's lips missed her own—his lips touching the corner of her mouth and chin. Althea frowned slightly and lifted her head—she felt Sirius's lips, tasting of Butterbeer, smile against her. She soon smiled, too—it felt exhilarating to be so close to him—to smell the spicy scent of his soap and to feel his heart beating just as wildly as hers. His touch was so soft and little electrical sparks tingled and exploded underneath her skin.

Sirius slightly pulled away form Althea and rested his forehead against hers. Eyes closed, he whispered, "Would you be my girl?"

Althea felt a sick feeling in her stomach. She had enjoyed her night so much with Sirius; she had forgotten her promise to Lily and for Jane.

"I—I can't," she whispered.

"But—"

"Jane," she said, stepping back. "I can't do this," she added and wiped her mouth.

Sirius inhaled deeply and bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm so sorry. I—"

"Right," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Jane is the one that fancies you," she said shakily—the words tasting odd upon her lips. "You don't—"

"I wrote you those letters," he said quickly.

Althea felt the blood drain from her face.

"All of them," he added, his hands balled into fists.

Althea stared at Sirius with her mouth slightly parted. Her feelings for Sirius and for the letter writer were one in the same.

"I just thought you should know that."

Althea didn't walk after him or did she make any plea to stop him.

Sirius roughly grabbed his broom. "Get yourself down," he said and mounted his broom. "I reckon you can manage."

Sirius flew off into the night sky at a dangerous acceleration. Althea maintained contact with his form until he vanished. Alone, she slumped down onto the roof and pulled her knees to her chest. She raised her fingertips to her lips and began to cry.

* * *

Her eyes raw from tears, Althea returned to Gryffindor Tower. As she spotted the Fat Lady's portrait, her eyes drifted upward to the suspended figure before it.

"Snape," she sighed, resting her hands on her hips.

Snape, with great effort, shifted in midair to face her. She was impressed that he had remembered a Temporary Sticking Charm to his robes—she really did not want to see his graying underpants and sickly pale legs again.

"Morrigan—"

"No."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You'll wish—"

Althea stepped forward. "Lily is too kind to have done this to you. I reckon she'd help you down, still. I won't," she said as nostrils of Snape's large hooked nose flared. "You'll stay here until the morning so everyone will know how loathsome you are."

"Muckblood—"

"You're in no position to threaten me," she said and laughed, shaking her head. "I'll see that you're still suspended in the air until the afternoon."

Snape pointed his finger at Althea. "Just you wait—"

Althea stepped forward, looking eye to eye at him. "You hang round people that think it okay _to kill her_," she said and waited for a moment for it to register with Snape.

Sadly, it did not.

Althea sighed and walked around Snape toward the Fat Lady's portrait. "Goodnight, Snivellus."

"Your boyfriend is no better!"

Althea stopped. She turned to face the struggling Snape and raised her wand. "_Circumversari_."

Snape growled as he started to slowly spin like a top.

"Goodnight, Snivellus."


	22. Hogsmeade, June 1976

**Hogwarts, June 1976**

Althea stared at her full plate of sausages and eggs. The last Hogsmeade visit of the school year was that afternoon and she did not feel much up to it. As Mary Macdonald and Martha Lennon eagerly chatted away with Jane about the new style of robes at Gladrags, Althea sighed sadly and poked her cooling eggs with her fork. Two days ago, she had spent her evening in Hogsmeade, dodging McGonagall and a likely detention—if not expulsion—with Sirius Black. She thought to the thrill of escaping and the mischievous glint in Sirius's eyes as they found themselves alone in that street. Althea heard Jane's squeaky gasp and she knew Sirius Black had entered the Great Hall. Staring at her eggs, she heard his deliberate footsteps walk toward them and she prayed he would leave her alone. The footsteps stopped before her. She refused to look up from her plate.

"Meadows."

Jane gasped.

Althea's empty stomach churned violently.

"Hogsmeade's today," he said, and with slight hesitation in his voice continued, "would you go with me?"

Althea seemed to stare through her plate as Jane gasped, "Yes!"

Lily caught her breath and reached for Althea's hand under the table.

"Good," he replied as Althea's vision began to blur. "Good."

After Sirius left, Jane leaned forward, slamming her palms against the table. "I don't believe this!" she squealed and made a squeaking noise of triumph. "Sirius Black, _the_ Sirius Black, asked me to Hogsmeade!" she said and sighed happily. "Bloody hell! What will I wear?"

"How about that blue dress?" Mary offered as Althea slowly lifted her head.

Althea glanced in Sirius's direction. Sirius, pale, sat next to James and seemed to force a smile as James cheerfully slapped him upon the back. _I had to_, she thought, feeling the tears well inside her. Althea had not expected Sirius to ask Jane out to Hogsmeade. She had expected him to take her confession of Jane's crush and her loyalty to her friends as her reason for rejecting him, not for him to consider Jane as a potential date. James wrinkled his nose and pulled a face as he looked toward their end of the table.

"I—I have to go," Althea whispered as Jane continued to gush with Mary about hairstyles.

"I'll go, too," Lily said as Althea stood.

"No, no," Althea said as Jane had lifted a portion of her hair. "She needs to look her best for Sirius."

With her head bent, digging her nails into her clenched fists to stave off her crying, Althea hastily left the Great Hall with Lily shortly behind her. Once in the courtyard, Althea did not hide her tears. _It should be you, you stupid girl_, she thought, the stone, flowers, and moss obscured by her tears. She heard Lily's footsteps behind her. She had divulged to Lily all that happened that night—from the Quidditch game to the kiss—except for Sirius Black's confession.

"Oh, I want to hex him!" Lily growled, placing her hand upon Althea's shaking back. "I will. I will hex him."

Althea covered her face with her hands.

"That was exceptionally cruel!"

Althea nodded. "I know."

"Asking Jane out right in front of you!" Lily said and growled. "He is such a—"

"_Don't_," she interrupted and sniffed.

"Althea—"

Althea let her hands fall to her sides. "He did so because I told him to."

"What?"

"I told him," she said, attempting to suppress her trembling lower lip. "I was just as cruel," she said and looked into Lily's large green eyes. "He wrote those letters."

"Sirius Black?"

Althea nodded.

Lily sat upon the stone bench and ran her fingers through her thick red hair.

"He told me that night," she said, wringing her hands in front of her, "and I rejected him."

Lily, open-mouthed, stared at Althea.

"I couldn't go out with him," she said, sitting next to Lily. "I didn't want to upset—"

"But you did—you did go out with him."

"I know, but—"

"You fancy him," she said, placing her hand upon Althea's, "and—my God—he fancies you."

Althea nodded and sniffed. "Very much so," she murmured and furrowed her eyebrows. "How could I have been so stupid? I shouldn't have gone out with him! I shouldn't have kissed him!"

Lily let go of Althea's hand and placed her arm around Althea's back. "But you wanted to," she said softly and kissed Althea's temple. "You can mend this."

"I can't," she said, turning her face toward Lily. "What about Jane?

Lily wiped the wet strands of hair from Althea's face. "He has a brother, who is just as rich and almost as good-looking."

"What about you?"

Lily smiled sympathetically. "And as for me, I just want to know about the snogging."

Althea smiled a faint smile. "I left the roof with my honor intact."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "The roof?"

"Yeah," Althea said and nodded toward the Hogwarts roof. "Up there."

Lily looked up toward the roof and grinned. "Who would've thought the boy known for broom cupboards could be such a romantic?"

* * *

Althea lifted her third Chocolate Frog to her lips. She bit down on the chocolate head and felt the charmed piece of chocolate struggle against her. _I'll never get used to that_, she thought, shoving the rest of the chocolate into her mouth. She tossed her third card of Agrippa onto the moist moss-covered earth. As she sat upon the fallen tree, she stretched her legs before her—kicking a few foil wrappers away from her.

"Good Lord," she murmured, looking about her, "I've eaten almost the entire lot."

She massaged her stomach. She had settled herself close to the Shrieking Shack with a bag of sweets from Honeydukes. Lily had coaxed Althea to Hogsmeade, but she didn't dare venture near the village for fear of throwing up as Jane dragged Sirius into Madam Puddifoot's. _I'd never take you to Madam Puddifoot's_, she thought and took a bite of licorice wand. She laughed darkly at the thought of Sirius sitting among the cherubs. She imagined his face in a grimace as he sipped his tea.

Althea heard the snap of twigs as someone approached. James Potter, slightly annoyed, hurriedly walked toward Althea. _Oh dear_, she thought, taking a toffee from her bag.

"Morrigan!" he said and messed the back of his hair. "I have to speak with you."

Althea held up her bag of sweets. "Toffee? Chocolate Frog?"

James shook his head. "Morrigan," he said and pointed toward the village, "my best friend is on a date in my Granny's sitting room!"

Althea shrugged. "He asked Jane."

James made a noise of disgust.

"What would have me do?" she asked, unwrapping a toffee. "Maybe he fancies her."

James groaned, throwing his head back. "He doesn't fancy her!"

Althea lifted the toffee to her lips, but frowned as it flew out of her hand. "What'd you do that for?"

"He'd hex me if he knew I was here," he said, stepping forward—crushing the wrappers into the moist earth. "He fancies you."

"I know," she said, resting her hands against the rough bark, "but—"

"What's wrong with him, then?"

Althea shrugged. "Nothing."

"Exactly!" he said, throwing his hands up into the air. "Why'd you say no?"

Althea sighed. "Jane."

James's hands fell heavily to his sides as he looked—with a puzzled expression—at Althea. "She's so bloody daft!"

"Oi!" she shouted, sitting forward.

"Come off it, Morrigan, you're just as annoyed with her as we are."

"Shut it," she said and picked at the loose bark. "I thought you'd understand friendship."

"I do," he said through gritted teeth. "It's why I'm here."

"What would you have me do? You forget that Lily's my best friend and we're both friends with Jane. If Sirius and I—it would put her in the middle," she said and grunted quietly as she pulled off a substantial piece of park. "Jane is the one he's supposed to like."

"He's fancied you since we were eleven."

Althea stopped pulling at the bark. "What? No, he hasn't."

James laughed quietly, knowingly. "I teased him about it," he said, sitting next to her. "He started to tease you after that."

"Oh right, _teasing_," she said and scratched the tip of her nose. "Calling me a Muck—"

James made a loud noise of disgust. "It was his bloody family!" he said, slamming his hand against the fallen tree. "You have no idea—"

"He told me," she said quietly. "His mum is awful."

James nodded. "She thinks I'm barely acceptable."

Althea quickly turned toward James. "You?"

James smiled crookedly. "Yeah," he breathed, "but now that my father gave that speech in defense of Muggle-borns at the Ministry, I reckon my invitation will be withdrawn for the summer."

Althea made a face.

"We're all he's got," he said and nudged Althea.

* * *

"Oh, that disgusting rat!" Jane huffed, folding her arms. "He crawled into my teacup!"

Althea stood in the doorway to the fifth-year girls' dormitory. Jane sat upon her bed, handkerchief in her hand, flanked by Lily and Mary, with a concerned Martha sitting behind her. Althea sighed as she entered. _What did Sirius do_, she wondered and tossed her almost empty bag of sweets upon her bed. She knew that Sirius would not surrender quietly to an afternoon in Madam Puddifoot's tearoom. Althea sat upon the floor, cross-legged, in front of Jane.

Jane sniffed. "Black—Black was so noble," she said and patted her eye with her pink handkerchief. "He turned the table over to protect me from that horrific creature…well, after Lupin fell onto it—"

"Remus Lupin?" Althea questioned, barely able to contain her amusement at the absurdity of Remus in such a ghastly place. "Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure, Althea!" Jane snapped, balling her handkerchief into her fist. "Oh, and that awful dog of yours!"

"Snuffles?" Althea said, raising an eyebrow. "That dog was in the bloody tearoom?"

Jane nodded. "Started to chase that ghastly little vermin round," she said, her bottom lip started to quiver. "A beastly thing, Althea! All the tables and chairs were turned over!"

_Brilliant dog_, she thought, suppressing her smile.

"Then Potter—"

Lily let out an audible groan.

"—started to shout hexes at that rat," she explained, narrowing her eyes. "He wouldn't stop laughing."

Althea clenched her teeth together to stifle her laughter. _Where did the boys find the dog and rat_, she thought as Jane lamented about the rat scampering across her shoe. _Oh, but this was so cruel_!

"Black joined him—the poor cherubs!"

"Ha!" Althea quickly covered her mouth.

Lily, fighting her own smile, gave Althea a pleading look.

"It was all over," she said and sighed sadly. "Pettigrew was under the table eating the cakes."

Martha tenderly placed her hand upon Jane's shoulder. "Were they really banned?"

"Yes!" Jane squeaked and let out a sob. "For life!"


	23. Hogwarts, End of Term Feast, June 1976

**Hogwarts, End of Term Feast, June 1976**

Althea looked out across the calm water as one of the giant squid's tentacles lazily peaked above the lake's surface. The next morning, she would leave to spend her summer holiday with her Gran—she wrinkled her nose at the thought. Sirius would leave Hogwarts, as well, to return to a home life he would rather avoid. _To think, we could've spent some of our summer together_, she thought, pulling her knees to her chest. She hoped that the brief holiday would help to dampen the feelings in her heart. She was so sure Sirius would hex her after she rejected him that night on the Hogwarts roof, but he had not. The coldness between them was worse than any hex he could ever inflict upon her.

Althea rested her chin upon her crossed arms. _He asked her to Hogsmeade in front of me_, she thought, feeling her lower lip tremble. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand as she remembered her talk with James. _I've ruined everything_, she thought and closed her eyes to halt the tears forming. _I threw away my chance_.

A large paw nudged Althea's arm. Her friend had returned. Althea smiled through her tears as she looked upon the dog that was complicit in Sirius's ban from Madam Puddifoot's tearoom.

"Hello," she murmured and kissed his snout. "I've needed you," she said, resting her cheek against his head.

Snuffles whined at which Althea held him tightly to her.

"Please, don't." Althea frowned as she smelled something familiar—a scent she found pleasant. "One of us has to be happy."

_I wonder if Gran would allow me to keep him_, she thought as she scratched Snuffles behind his ears. Snuffles's tail wagged happily. _She'd have to prefer it to an owl_.

"I reckon you can sleep in my bed tonight," she said and noticed that Snuffles had become quite still. "What a shock for Jane…and for Gran!"

Althea gave Snuffles a vigorous scratch and threw herself against the warm grass. A two ravens flew overhead and Althea sighed mournfully. _It's strange how my feelings towards him have changed_, she thought, looking to the small black tattoo of a bird upon her wrist. _Little by little, I saw him for who he truly was and not that arrogant bastard I thought him to be…but I've hurt him_. Her eyes widened slightly—she had hurt him more than any hex or curse she could cast would ever hurt him.

"I've been a complete fool and I can't mend it," she said and groaned, covering her face with her hands. "What have I done?"

"Althea?"

Althea's eyes snapped open, and she turned her head to see Sirius—very pale—sitting next to her where Snuffles had been.

Althea sat up and looked around her for her companion, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Where—"

"I reckon I should apologize for my behavior towards Meadows," he said, looking to the space of grass between them. "There was this rat and—"

"I know."

"You know?"

Althea nodded. "You exploded the cherubs."

"I had to," he said with a faint smile. "The rat it—"

"Sprouted a pair of tiny wings," she finished, "and now you're forever banned."

"Unfortunately," he said with mock regret.

"Indeed."

Sirius swallowed. "James is waiting for me," he said and went to stand. "Have a good holiday—"

"Wait," she said, grasping his hand. "Wait, please."

"Althea, I—"

Now was her moment. She furrowed her brow and Sirius, witnessing her distress, returned to the grass. Althea raised her hand to Sirius's face and brushed the locks of hair that had fallen into his eyes. The corner of her mouth upturned when she saw his cheeks turn a pale shade of pink. Sirius Black wrote those letters for her. Letters, which detailed his most intimate thoughts about her and his hopes for them as a couple. He risked expulsion just to kiss her. He would risk being disowned just to date her.

"I do feel the same way."

It took a moment for Sirius to recognize what she had said, but a small smile crept across his handsome face. "You do?"

Althea nodded.

Sirius grinned and slowly ran his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her forward. She closed her eyes, her heart almost leaping out of her chest, as he placed his parted lips against hers. Leisurely, she ran her fingers up his chest, feeling his heart beating just as fast and just as strong as hers. She slowly pulled away from him, gently licking her lips, and rested her forehead against his. _How I could have ever thought of sacrificing this_, she wondered as she gazed into Sirius's eyes. She smiled as a breeze caught a few strands of his hair, sweeping them into his grey eyes.

She frowned slightly at the spicy scent of Sirius' soap. She leaned close and sniffed his neck.

Sirius laughed. "What are you doing?"

Althea continued to sniff him. "I'd just—I thought I—"

Sirius gently pulled her away from him and smiled at her thoughtfully. "Oh, don't frown," he said. "I reckon you should know."

Althea raised an eyebrow. "Know what?"

Sirius cleared his throat. He clasped her hands and looked solemnly into her eyes as he spoke, "Promise me, you'll never tell anyone what I'm about to show you."

A small knot developed in Althea's stomach. "I won't. What is it?"

Sirius sat up and surveyed the area. "Right."

Before her eyes, Sirius gradually transformed into his Animagus form. Althea gasped in humorous disbelief as there sitting before her was the large black dog that entertained the girls on many evenings.

"You—you're that dog!"

Sirius barked happily and wagged his tail. _This is absolutely absurd_, she thought and placed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. Althea thought to the incident in Madam Puddifoot's and roared with laughter.

"I don't believe this," she breathed, reaching for Sirius' snout. "You're Snuffles."

Sirius panted happily.

Althea fiercely blushed at the thought she almost let Sirius sleep in her bed. Her amusement transformed into embarrassment.

"Sirius, that's a terrible thing to do—eavesdrop on our conversations," she admonished as Sirius returned to his human form. "I said—oh bloody hell!"

"I only paid attention when you talked about me," he explained, taking her hands in his—he gently squeezed them. "Thank you, for defending that I don't have fleas," he added and winked.

Althea's mouth dropped open. "I let you rest your head in my lap!"

"I'm sorry, Althea. It was the only way I could be near you," he said, resting his hands on her shoulders. "It will never happen again," he added and kissed her cheek. "I promise."

"Good," she said, attempting to hide a smile. "The things you heard."

"Indeed," he said and laughed to himself. "I almost transformed in front of you the evening you said that you wished me to be the letter writer."

"It would've been awful if you did," she said and gasped. "Oh, and what you did to poor Jane!"

"She never showed me a bit of kindness," he said, the corner of his mouth upturned, "unlike you. What was I to do? She raised her wand at me in that ghastly place. You would never think of harming such a lovable stray."

Althea frowned slightly.

"It was James's idea—the rat," he whispered. "He couldn't let me suffer."

"Of course, not."

Sirius sighed happily. "This is unreal."

"It is a bit strange," she replied and smiled. "Last year, I was planning ways to avoid you and now—"

"Will you meet me later?" he asked, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Later?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling eagerly. "A walk by the lake? I promise I won't throw rocks at the giant squid."

Althea laughed quietly. "You haven't done that since we were eleven," she replied as Sirius smoothed loose strands of hair away from her face. "I would like that though—a walk."

Sirius's grin broadened. "Brilliant," he replied and kissed her lips. "Midnight, then?"

"Midnight?"

"Eleven-thirty?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, midnight's fine," she answered, smiling weakly. "I'll meet you in the common room, then?"

"No, no," he replied, shaking his head. "Meet me on the fourth floor next to the suit of armor missing its sword."

"Right," she breathed, memorizing where he told her to meet. "It's very late. I think my friends are wondering where I am."

"Right," he sighed with disappointment, "I suppose we should return."

"Please, don't be cross," she said and kissed his cheek.

"I'm not cross. I'm looking forward to the feast," he said as he stood. He smiled mischievously and he held out his hands. "I reckon we should arrive together—it'll be a great shock—"

"That isn't a good idea," she said as she stood. "Jane—"

Sirius clasped her hand. "I hadn't thought of that. Jane wouldn't take us too well," he replied thoughtfully, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I hadn't realized how much she fancied me."

Althea let out a laugh of surprise. "How could you not?" she remarked, looking into his eyes. "She sits behind you in almost every class and she sat behind you in every O.W.L exam."

Sirius frowned as he attempted to remember where he sat during his O.W.L exams.

"You honestly didn't know, did you?"

"No," he replied, frowning. "I reckoned the gasps and squeaks in Divination were normal."

"Sometimes," she blurted out and gasped.

Sirius chuckled quietly. "Any rich wizard will do," he said and pulled a face. "And any girl that would settle for my idiot brother—"

Althea stuck out her tongue.

"Exactly," he said and sighed with mild disappointment. "I suppose we won't tell anyone about us."

"Not yet at least," she said and bit her lip.

* * *

Althea felt uncomfortable as she sat across from Jane, who was chatting merrily with Lily. Sirius had sat across from Althea, next to Jane, much to the delight of Jane and much to the dismay of Althea. Jane, of course, was overly enthusiastic that Sirius had chosen to sit next to her—and to Althea—must have taken it as a sign of their future shared destiny. Althea, on the other hand, felt increasingly guilty—especially after she kicked Jane underneath the table to keep from her making a complete fool of herself.

Althea pushed her peas with her fork, and wondered how she could keep a secret that large from Jane and Lily. _It's not as if we're getting married or anything—we're just dating_, she thought, as she pushed a few of her peas into her mashed potatoes. _I also have to think of a way to meet him without their detection…tonight_. Althea smiled as she folded her peas into her mashed potatoes, but quickly caught herself doing so. It was her secret. How long could the ruse last? How could she explain where she was going? The excuses of revising, Quidditch, and clubs could only work for so long. Deep inside her, the thought of keeping such a large secret excited her. It made the idea of dating Sirius even that more enticing. Althea sighed and continued to push her peas into her mashed potatoes; however, she was jarred out of her thinking by Jane who decided to talk with Sirius.

"I was thinking of getting a dog, but I'm not sure. Do you have a dog?" Jane asked Sirius.

Althea dropped her fork as Jane winked at her. She looked at Sirius and saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. She knew he would play along.

Sirius rested his arms on the table. "Why, yes I do," he said, not taking his eyes off Althea. "A nice, big black one."

Althea bit her lip to hide her nervous smile.

"Really," Jane said breathlessly and rested her chin on her hand.

"Yes, really," he replied as if everyone knew he had a dog. "It looks almost exactly like the one that's been lurking about here," he explained and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Fascinating," Jane replied and batted her eyes.

_You loathe that dog_, she thought as Jane seemed faintly disappointed at Sirius's choice of dog. However, Jane was not deterred by such a minor flaw

"What's his name?"

Sirius placed his cup back on the table. "Well, I've had this dog forever, so it has one of those really childish names," he said, looking into Althea's eyes.

_Oh, please don't say his name is Snuffles_, she thought as Sirius winked at her.

"Oh please, tell me," Jane pleaded, leaning closer to Sirius.

Sirius sighed, not taking his eyes off Althea. "Very well, it's Snuffles," he said and winked at Althea.

Althea felt her neck warm.

Jane's eyes widened. "That's—that's the name of the dog Lily had!"

"Oh," he said and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know. It must be a popular name."

"It must be," Lily interrupted and winked at Althea.

Althea shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Jane turned her focus to Althea. "Did you know his dog was named Snuffles?"

Althea shifted her eyes from Jane to Sirius. Small pangs of guilt enveloped her stomach—she was not hungry anymore. _How can I do this_, she thought as Sirius smiled—very pleased with himself.

"No, I had no idea," she said and smiled nervously. "It must be a popular name…imagine that."

"_Imagine_," Lily said deliberately and raised an eyebrow.


	24. Diagon Alley, August 1976

**Diagon Alley, August 1976**

"I can only take one more year of coming here," Gran said as they left Gringott's Bank. "My poor nerves."

Althea continued to walk and attempted to tune out her grandmother as she continued to belittle the magical world. _How many books do I need_, she thought disbelievingly as she read her school list, _four books for Potions, three books for Transfiguration, and two books for Herbology_…

"Althea Rosemary, really, no wonder magic separated itself," Gran said disapprovingly, as Althea continued to look at her list. "Goblins in a bank, and now, a witch wearing a _vulture_ on a _hat_?" Gran pointed to the older woman with the vulture hat.

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes. "Gran, just sit in the ice cream parlor, and I'll be back in a little while," she said and forcefully, but politely directed her grandmother into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

"Hurry, I don't want to sit here long. I do not like how that—that _wizard_ is looking at me," Gran said and clutched her purse tighter.

_Maybe in one of these books they'll have a potion for old woman_, Althea thought as she flipped through an extremely thick Advanced Potions textbook. _Why must all of my books be so thick, too_, she thought as she struggled to carry all of her books to the counter. Althea, carefully resting her chin on top of the many books for sixth-year, slowly winded her way through the many students and shoppers in Diagon Alley. With a great heave, she dropped the books on the table her grandmother was sitting at—her grandmother still tightly clutching her purse to her chest.

"Are these necessary?" Gran waved her hand at the large stack of textbooks.

With her hand, Althea brushed loose strands of hair away from her face. "I asked myself the same thing," she said, eyeing the books. "I have one more thing to buy—a present for Jane. Her birthday's at the end of the month."

"Fine, go," Gran said, rolling her eyes. "Leave your Gran with _these_ people."

"I knew you'd understand," Althea quipped and smiled.

_These people_, Althea thought as she entered Flourish and Blott's. _They're more interesting than those people you'd like me to associate with_. Ever since Althea's return for the summer holiday, her grandmother had exhausted every effort of introducing her granddaughter to nice Muggles. Nice Muggles were wealthy, had at least one hyphen in their surnames, enjoyed polo, did not do anything useful in their lives, refused to believe in the existence of magic, and were incredibly dull. Their greatest ambitions in life were to marry well, to know the right people (the right people being wealthy and titled), and to have their faces in every glossy society magazine. _Sadly, they aren't much different than some witches I know_, she thought, eyeing Sirius's cousin Narcissa on the arm of Lucius Malfoy. _I wish Sophie wasn't away for the summer. She despises all of this too_.

Althea scanned the bookstore as she entered in an attempt to remember where she spotted Jane's gift. In the third aisle she searched, she found Jane's gift—_Ophelia Drowning: A Tale of Muggle Love and Woe_. Althea giggled as she read the back cover. _Muggles do not act like this_, she thought as she flipped through the book's pages. _Chasing a house-elf with an ax? Rubbish, indeed_. The books, written by Aphrodite Collins, had become a joke to the girls, and while Lily and Althea read them for a laugh, Jane read them as Gospel. Jane eagerly awaited each installment of what Althea could best term as sympathetic Muggle propaganda. The Muggle heroines were depicted as pure creations of nature, corrupted by the dubious and villainous wizard, until the noble and pure of heart wizard saved her. According to the author's biography, Ms. Collins had done extensive research of Muggles for each book; however, Muggles did not own house-elves nor did they use something called a "taperider." Althea regretfully handed the woman a Galleon—believing the book should really have been worth no more than seven Knuts—and exited the bookstore. _I hope no one catches me holding this book in my hand_, she thought as she walked along the edge of the crowded street. _It could be very embarrassing…. I really do not understand how she is so popular_.

"So, you're _the one_," Althea heard a woman say behind her.

The voice was cold, and the words seemed to snake into Althea's ears. Confused, Althea stopped and was unsure the voice was directed to her. She slowly turned to face the voice. Before her stood a tall middle-aged witch in fine green robes— her posture was very proud and her long black hair slithered in the slight breeze.

"I've been watching you," the woman said as she walked toward Althea.

Althea looked around for assistance, but the street was busy with witches and wizards too occupied in their shopping. _Who is this woman_, she thought as she continued to look around the street. To her right, Althea spotted Sirius's brother, Regulus, who nervously covered his face with a book—either too scared to watch the scene unfold, or sheepishly endeavoring to hide his black eye and swollen lip.

_Bugger all_, she thought, _it's Sirius's mother_.

"Do you know who I am?"

Althea nodded her head. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Black," she said politely, and refused to show any sign of the uneasiness she experienced. "How do you do?"

Mrs. Black's lips tightened—obviously irritated that Althea would dare to speak in her presence. "Althea _Morrigan_, is it?" Her eyes dissected Althea.

Althea took in a deep breath of air. "Yes, ma'am," she replied as she exhaled.

Mrs. Black raised an eyebrow. "Morrigan…" she said and her face contorted as if she had tasted something unpleasant. "It is _not_ a Wizarding family name, is it?"

Althea did not respond.

"Embarrassingly Muggle," she sneered as the shoppers continued to pass. "You will be starting your sixth-year?"

Althea nodded.

Mrs. Black nodded in mocked sympathy. "How your parents desperately wanted you accepted into the folds of Wizarding society. Very difficult for your sort in our world…especially when you are most unwelcome."

Althea remained quiet. _What does she want_, she wondered, tightening her grip on Jane's present. _Why speak to me_? She felt sick to her stomach. _Sirius didn't tell her about us, did he_? Mrs. Black gracefully strode toward Althea, raised her thin hand to Althea's face, and tightly grasped her chin. She narrowed her eyes while she closely examined Althea's face.

"So, _this_ is the face," she whispered as she slowly turned Althea's face from side to side. "By no means a _rare_ beauty—no—quite _common_, in fact." She released Althea's chin from her hand.

Althea stepped back and rubbed her sore chin. "May I ask—"

"Don't speak, half-blood," she said, holding up her hand.

_How dare she speak to me like that_, she thought, narrowing her eyes. _I'm not human to her_.

"May I ask what the purpose of this conversation is?"

Mrs. Black inhaled sharply. "You and your filth have corrupted my son," she said and held up her hand, beckoning Regulus to her.

Regulus dutifully, but warily walked to his mother's side. He did his best not to look at Althea—he looked at the ground, his hands, or the other shoppers. However, ever so often, Althea would catch him glancing at her and then quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere. _I didn't know I was shameful to look at_, she thought as she looked from Regulus, and then to Mrs. Black.

"Regulus, look," she said and pushed her son closer to Althea. "_Never_ follow carnal urges over familial obligations. She will ruin you."

Regulus timidly looked at Althea. _Oh, dear God, she thinks I'm dating him_!

"Ma'am, I'm not dating _him_," she said and nodded toward Regulus.

"I know that, you stupid girl!" she chided and pushed Regulus out of the way. "You are a greedy, half-blooded guttersnipe—"

"I don't need your Galleons, Mrs. Black," Althea said, digging her nails into the book jacket. "Now, I really must—"

"I'm not about to let you leave," she said, stepping in front of Althea as she attempted to pass. "That blood traitor's grandfather said it was a phase, but you are not a phase, _are you_?"

Althea was silent.

"No," she continued and stared darkly into Althea's eyes, "because phases _end_."

Althea did not blink, but resolutely stared into Mrs. Black's eyes.

"This is not the time in our world to be engaged in such frivolous relationships," she said and unclasped her purse. "Such relationships could have—I dare say it—_dire_ consequences. It is very important that we _must_ stay with our own kind." She lifted a small, plush, purple drawstring bag from her purse. "Here," she said and placed the soft bag into Althea's hand. "You do understand what I am asking you to do?"

Disgusted, Althea dropped the bag and heard a muffled _clink_ when it hit the street. "I believe you've confused me with some Ministry Official," she replied and Mrs. Black's face whitened with fury. "I do not want, nor do I _need_, your money—"

Mrs. Black's eyes widened and she slapped Althea across the cheek. "How _dare_ you defile our noble family!"

Shocked, Althea staggered backward and gingerly placed her hand on her cheek; her cheek was warm and stung from the slap. "Noble," she muttered as she rubbed her cheek.

_There is nothing noble about her_, she thought as she continued to nurse her cheek.

Mrs. Black grabbed Althea's wrists and held them painfully tight. "I really do have your _best_ interest at heart," she seethed as she squeezed Althea's wrists.

_I wonder if she has a heart_, Althea thought as she attempted to wiggle her wrists free.

"Let me go!" Althea managed to free one of her wrists from Mrs. Black's boney grip.

"You've made a grave mistake, foolish girl," she said waspishly and threw down Althea's other wrist. "You—and that blood traitor—you truly have no idea...so arrogant for being so young. You're _never_ welcome here, Muckblood."

"Apologize to my granddaughter," Gran demanded from behind Althea.

For the first time, Althea was pleased to see her grandmother. As Gran gracefully walked to her side, Althea experienced a sudden surge of confidence and pride. Gran proudly stood and looked at Mrs. Black with the utmost scorn.

"How dare you talk to me? Do you know _who_ I am?" Mrs. Black proudly folded her arms.

"No," Gran responded coolly. "_Should_ I know you?"

_Oh God, Gran, just shut it and let's leave_, she thought as she massaged her wrists. Althea was sure Mrs. Black's temper matched her Gran's, and any fight would end up on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. _'Muggle Society Matron Slaps Wizard Society Matron—Fight Ensues, Diagon Alley Evacuated_,' she thought, tenderly rubbing her forehead.

Mrs. Black's lips whitened and her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. "Walburga Black, Muggle."

For a moment, Gran's resolute facial expression faltered. "I do not care _who_ you are, you are _never_ speak to my granddaughter in that manner," Gran said—her eyes narrowing.

"And _who_ are you to speak to me?" Mrs. Black asked, narrowing her eyes. "Such the _brave_ Muggle you are."

"I am Agnes _Rynne_ Morrigan," Gran replied, resting her hand on Althea's back. "Come, Althea Rosemary, let us leave," she added and squeezed Althea's shoulder.

Mrs. Black's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Blood traitor," she said, looking into Gran's eyes. "How…_befitting_," she continued, walking closer to Gran.

Confused, Althea looked to her grandmother. Gran's jaw tightened. _Blood traitor_, she thought, furrowing her eyebrows. _She must be mistaken. Gran can't be…she isn't a witch_. Gran opened her purse and slipped her hand inside.

"Let's hope it doesn't have the same nasty, lonely end," she said, looking from Althea to Gran. "I'll tell him that you said, 'hello.'"

"Absolute nonsense!"

"Nonsense?" Mrs. Black repeated and started to laugh.

"Come, Althea Rosemary, we are leaving," she said abruptly and grabbed Althea's hand.

Althea did not dare look back at Mrs. Black, who continued to laugh in the middle of the street. Instead, she was transfixed on her grandmother. What did it mean? _She must've confused Gran with another woman_, she thought as Gran's eyes did not waver to look at Althea.

* * *

For once, Althea was happy to see the large, ominous manor house. She dropped her books with the staff and started to climb the staircase that led to the upper floors and her bedroom. She wanted to forget what Mrs. Black had said to her, or rather, threatened to her. _It must have been awful for him_, she thought as she ascended the stairs. _I wonder how she discovered the truth. Sirius kept it a secret from his family, as well. He couldn't possibly have told them, could he_?

"Althea Rosemary, stay here," Gran said. "I want to speak with you."

Althea sighed disappointedly and closed her eyes. Opening her eyes, she slowly turned and begrudgingly walked down the stairs. Gran motioned with her hand for Althea to enter the front drawing room. Althea sat on a very uncomfortable antique couch, and Gran sat across from her. For a few moments, the two sat in silence—Althea looked at her skirt, then at the floral pattern of the couch, and then at the large portrait over the marble fireplace. _She always loved Uncle George best_, she thought, looking from the large portrait of her uncle to her grandmother.

"Althea Rosemary," Gran said and folded her hands in her lap, "do you know that woman?"

Her stomach flipped. "No," she replied uneasily and shifted in her seat.

"Then, why would she accost you in the street?" Gran asked, looking into Althea's eyes.

Althea gulped a large amount of air, and closed her eyes. "I'm dating her son," she said barely audible.

Althea waited for a moment before she opened her eyes.

"I am very disappointed in you, Althea Rosemary," Gran said, frowning severely. "I want you to stay away from that family. The Black family is full of Dark wizards. They are not the type _you_—a young girl of your station and breeding—should associate with."

Althea listened to her grandmother's words, but something strange in her words startled Althea. "Gran, how would you know about the Black family?"

Gran did not respond.

"Gran, _how would you know about the Black family_?" she repeated, a little louder due to irritation. "Gran?"

Gran sighed and stood from her seat—she did not look at Althea. "Althea Rosemary, come with me."

Althea stood and followed her grandmother up the stairs that led to Gran's quarters. Gran opened the door to her bedroom and Althea entered after her. _What is Gran doing? Why wouldn't she answer my question_, she thought as she walked toward her grandmother's large four-post bed.

"Sit there," Gran said, pointing to the edge of her bed.

Althea sat on the uncomfortably firm bed and Gran disappeared into the closet. _What the bollocks is going on_, she wondered and looked up toward the ceiling. _Mrs. Black accosts me in the street, mentions that Gran is a blood traitor, and Gran doesn't want me to associate with Sirius because he comes from a family of Dark wizards…how would Gran know_? Soon, Gran returned with a large wooden trunk that she pulled behind her. Althea stood to help her grandmother, but Gran forced her to sit down. Gran placed the trunk in front of Althea and sat next to her.

Gran folded her arms. "Open it."

Althea knelt next to the trunk. With both hands, she unlatched the trunk, pushed the heavy top off, and placed the top to the side of the trunk. Inside, was a large, neatly folded, cream-colored cloth. Althea looked at Gran, and she nodded for her to open it. Carefully, she pulled the heavy cloth out of the trunk and unfolded it on top of the bed. This was not an ordinary cloth—but a tapestry—that expanded across Gran's bed, and if Althea had opened it fully, it would have fallen to the floor and covered a third of the room. Flanked by two ravens, the letters emblazoned with scarlet and silver thread, were the words:

_THE HOUSE OF RYNNE_

_IN MEMORIA VERITAS_

"Gran, what is this?" Althea asked, and pointed to the heading of the tapestry.

Althea's eyes traveled the tapestry. Interspersed with scenes of valor and of dragons and unicorns were names in scarlet. She glanced toward the bottom and saw her own name in scarlet.

"Remember the people from whom you came," Gran said quietly, as she ran her fingers along the scarlet threads. "The Rynne family began with two Muggle-borns," she explained and pointed to the top of the tapestry. "Almost eight hundred years ago."

"Muggle-borns? Gran," Althea said breathlessly—her breathing sharp and shallow.

"Like you, I am a witch."

"Oh, bollocks!" she breathed as she read Gran's name on the tapestry—_Agnes Rosemary Rynne_.

"Althea Rosemary!"

Althea stood and started to pace around the room. Her mind grew dizzy and she felt the blood drain from her face. Althea felt as if she was eleven and her father was telling her of the existence of magic for the first time. _A witch_, she thought as she turned and continued to pace. _My Gran is a witch. She hated me for being a witch, and she is one herself! I do not understand this_!

"Althea Rosemary, _sit down_," she demanded, and placed her hand on the spot of the bed next to her.

Althea shook her head. "No—no, I can't. You're a witch? Oh, I don't _believe_ this!" She threw her hands up into the air. She ran her fingers through the top of her hair. Frustrated, she forcefully pulled at her hair, hurting her scalp. "You treated daddy as if he were a mistake! Daddy hated it here…and I hate it here!"

"Althea Rosemary, let me explain," she pleaded as she stood. She rested her hands on Althea's upper arms, but Althea refused to look at her. "Please, let me explain," she pleaded softly and led Althea over to the bed.

"Please, explain," she said and folded her arms. "I'd love to know how Mrs. Black knew you were a witch and your own granddaughter didn't!"

"Quiet!" Gran scolded and looked at the trunk on the floor. Gran sighed heavily. "You are too young…just too young."

"Too young?"

Gran nodded—still looking at the trunk. "You are never to speak of this, Althea Rosemary."

Althea did not take her scrutinizing eyes off her grandmother.

"Everything I have done," she began and furrowed her eyebrows, "I have done to protect you…to protect Danny and George. You have no idea of the evil that is out there, Althea Rosemary…no idea."

"I—"

Gran held up her hand for Althea to quiet. "I was seventeen when I met him," she said, her hands trembled slightly. "I was foolish to believe that I was in love…that nothing else mattered. Nevertheless, there were things that did matter, but I was too blinded to see them…. We did not move in the same circles. It was by the strangest of events that I did meet him…we thought it was fate." She looked up from the trunk on the floor to Althea. "Our families discovered and did not approve of the match. My family believed that his family had acquired their wealth and position in Wizarding society by means of the Dark Arts…it just wasn't done. His family considered the Rynnes to be blood traitors, and I believe you know what that means?"

"Yes," she murmured, her eyes transfixed on Gran. "They were Dark, then?"

"Not all families that believed in blood purity were Dark, Althea Rosemary. It was a social taboo for the oldest families to retain their Muggle-born heritages. To them, wizards always were and will always be," she said and unfolded her hands.

"But your family—"

"_Our_ family," Gran corrected. "Indeed, but for all our eccentricities, we were a highly respected family…. However, we were young and social taboos meant nothing to us. We were desperately in love—"

Althea frowned at Gran's revelation. She could never imagine Gran desperately in love.

"I believed he was different—like you believe that boy is different—but I was wrong. He wasn't different." She sighed sadly. "They never are different, Althea Rosemary. I want you to learn from my terrible mistake," she said and took Althea's hands in hers. "He betrayed me. He chose his family and I lost everything."

"Terrible," Althea murmured.

Gran looked into Althea's eyes. "I want you to stop seeing that boy."

"His name is _Sirius_, Gran," Althea said and retracted her hands. "He isn't like them."

Gran knowingly shook her head. "I saw it in his eyes, Althea—"

"That _wasn't_ Sirius in Diagon Alley today. It was Regulus, his younger brother."

"It does not matter," Gran replied. "Nothing good came from the Black family."

Althea sat up straighter. "He's _not_ like them—"

"Don't be so sure."

"He's the first in his family not to be sorted into Slytherin," she said defiantly. "He's in Gryffindor."

"That doesn't matter," she replied, waving her hand in dismissal of Althea's defense. "He's no good. It is in his blood, Althea Rosemary. No matter how much he tries to suppress it…evil courses through his veins."

"In his blood?" she repeated and raised an eyebrow.

"You have no idea what he is capable of—what that family is capable of," Gran said and shook her head. "The children are immersed in the Dark Arts as soon as they show magical abilities. Indoctrinated in the Dark Arts and only caring for themselves—"

"He saved my life!" Althea, wide-eyed, covered her mouth.

Gran's face paled. "Althea Rosemary, how could you?"

"Well, I didn't really have a say in it, did I?" she scoffed and folded her arms. "We weren't dating at the time, either. He's immensely loyal to his friends—"

"And those that aren't his friends?"

Althea frowned. "He saved my life, Gran."

Gran placed her hands on Althea's shoulders. "And now, you're in his debt," she said ruefully, "forever. He will use it against you—"

Althea knocked her grandmother's hands away. "He loves me! He would never do that!"

"You're only a child!"

Althea stood from the bed. "I am not a child!" she shouted and stomped her foot against the floor. "You're just like his mother!"

Gran went to stand, but thought better of it. "_Never_ call me that again."

"The only things separating the two of you are blood purity and the Dark Arts," she said and smoothed the hair away from her face. "He despises the Dark Arts and blood purity. He can't wait to be rid of his family."

For the first time, she saw fear on her grandmother's face. Althea took a step back.

"He can't leave his family," she said knowingly. "It's impossible."

"No, it's—"

"Yes, _it is_," Gran said, leaning forward. "There are powerful Dark Magic spells, and I do not doubt they have used them...spells with horrific consequences. If he attempts to leave," she said—she stood and grabbed Althea's arms, "you _must_ put an end to this relationship."

"What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong!" she said and shook Althea. "Horrible things would happen!"

Althea saw the panicked look in her grandmother's eyes. "What would happen?" she asked—her stomach nauseous.

Gran remained quiet, but in that moment, Althea knew the consequence.

"I would die."


	25. Northfield, August 15, 1976

**Althea's Birthday, Northfield, August 1976**

The soft hooting of Gabriel woke Althea from her sleep. Sleepily, she turned over onto her back and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She sighed as she saw a letter tied neatly to Gabriel's leg—Sirius had written her. However, Althea did not attempt to retrieve the letter from Gabriel; she was exhausted from the argument with her grandmother the night before. She was exhausted from arguing and exhausted from crying. Althea spent the night and the early morning wondering about the truth of Gran's confession. How had her father not known of Gran's true nature? Why hide magic? Was her life in grave danger if she dated Sirius? Gran never specified the exact horrific consequences, but Althea did deduce that death was a possibility. She thought, once more, to the confrontation with Mrs. Black. The sickness in her stomach returned. _Such an awful woman_, she thought.

Gabriel's gentle, but insistent nudging could not stall Althea any longer. Althea sat up and untied the letter from Gabriel's leg. The letter was like the others she received over the summer—he missed her and could not wait to see her on the train to Hogwarts. Althea smiled at how challenging it would be for them to hide their enthusiasm on the train ride. However, this letter was slightly different from others. At the bottom, Sirius wrote that he would see her for her birthday. Althea covered her face with her hands and groaned. Her birthday—it was today. Gran had planned a special party, inviting all the boring Muggles to a garden party held in Althea's honor. Lily and Jane were not invited and her dear Muggle friend, Sophie—who so enjoyed mocking the boring set—would not be there.

Althea's mind returned to Sirius's letter. What would happen if Sirius appeared in the middle of the party? Althea laughed—which frightened Gabriel—as she imagined Sirius, in wizard's robes, flying on his broom, and landing in the middle of the festivities. Memory Charms would take care of the Muggles, but Gran was another matter. She had not given Gran an answer last night.

Althea stood from her bed. "This might be the worst birthday I'll ever have."

After her bath, she walked to her closet to pick out clothes for her party. Gran had told her to dress especially nice because John Harrington would be there. _Maybe, I have a nice potato sack lurking about_, she thought as she searched through her clothes. In Gran's mind, John Harrington was the perfect match for Althea. He was a prefect at the local boys' school, a member of the rowing team, a keen cricketer, a top polo player, and his grandfather—the 8th Earl of Willingsborough—was a dear friend of Gran. Due to the lack of a potato sack, Althea decided to wear her new lavender dress. She slipped on the lavender dress and frowned. _I reckon it's a bit short_, she thought, gazing into her full-length mirror. She walked into her closet for another dress and frowned again—all of her dresses and skirts (excluding the monstrosities Gran bought) were that short.

"Oh well," she sighed and exited her closet. "It will do."

As she applied pale pink lip-gloss, she heard something tapping against her window. _It must be Lily's owl_, she thought as she placed the lip-gloss on her dressing table. She felt an eager twinge in her stomach as Lily had promised her a 'magnificent and unique gift from the far reaches of Brighton' in her last correspondence. Althea walked over to her window, expecting Lily's owl, and giggled from surprise.

"Sirius!" she exclaimed as she opened the window. "It's so early! I didn't think you'd be here so soon," she said happily and threw her arms around his neck.

Sirius held her tightly and nuzzled her neck. "It is one in the afternoon," he replied as he pulled away from her. "Here, hop on," he added and patted his broom.

Althea pouted slightly. "I can't. Gran has a party for me at three."

"So?" he snorted and kissed her lips. His broom dipped suddenly, causing Althea to hold onto him tightly to prevent her falling out her window. "I'll have you back by three. Come on," he said, smiling, and patted the broom.

Althea carefully climbed out of the window and onto Sirius's broom. She wrapped her arms around his waist as they flew away from the manor house. Ever so often, Sirius would accelerate or dive, causing Althea to hold him tighter, which made him bark with laughter.

"Sirius, where are we going?" she shouted over the howling wind.

"We're almost there!" he shouted back and started to descend.

The two landed in an abandoned churchyard at the edge of Althea's estate. The grasses and wildflowers grew untamed around the faded, forgotten tombstones of Althea's ancestors. Sirius took her hand and led her through the archway of the decaying church. The roof had long since crumbled away and only a few pillars of stone and one wall remained. Althea did not understand why he would bring her to such a place.

"Isn't this lovely?" he sighed, as he looked admiringly around the dilapidated church.

Althea frowned and bit her lip. "I suppose so, but why would you bring me here?" She sat on a stone that at one time was a supporting beam.

Sirius sat next to her. "I saw this as I flew to your house. They wouldn't think of looking for us here," he explained and gently massaged her hand in his.

Althea's eyes narrowed. "They? Are you in trouble?" she asked as her stomach tightened.

Sirius laughed and rubbed his chin. "Sort of," he said and took her other hand in his. "I left home."

Althea's eyes widened. _Oh God_, she thought, growing lightheaded.

"You—you left home?"

Sirius nodded his head.

"You can't leave—they won't let you," she continued excitedly, squeezing his hand. "They'll come after you."

Sirius laughed again. "I did," he replied proudly as he looked into her eyes, "and I've managed to dodge them so far."

Althea's mind hummed and buzzed with excitement and confusion. "How—but—when—but—why?" she forced herself to say.

Sirius shook his head and continued to laugh. "I couldn't stand it there anymore," he began and released her hands. "You know how they all are—pure-blood fanatics," he continued and ran his fingers through his hair, exposing a small green bruise upon his temple. "Bellatrix...," he began to say and faintly winced. He swallowed bitterly. "While I was out, my idiot brother told that woman where I kept all my Muggle things—records, books, magazines, the whole lot."

"Oh no," Althea whispered, placing her hand atop his.

"Regulus told her about you," he said and sadly looked into her eyes. "She searched my room looking for your letters with the help of that wretched house-elf. When I came home, she had already destroyed the Muggle things, and she waited until I came home to destroy your letters."

Althea tenderly squeezed his hand.

"She confronted me, and of course, I didn't deny it. Then, she threw the letters into the fire in front of me. So, I waited until that night and left."

Althea slid her forearms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. _That is why his mother accosted me in the street_, she thought as Sirius held her tighter. _See Gran, he has given up his family—you were wrong_. Althea thought to the Dark Magic Gran had described that bound him to his family—she held him tighter.

"Where are you staying now?" Althea asked, not letting go of Sirius.

Sirius stroked Althea's back. "With James, of course," he said his tone of voice slightly more positive. "I'm sorry about my mother. Mrs. Potter told me about it yesterday—she saw the whole thing."

Althea had hoped that no one else had paid attention. "She was awful," she replied and pulled away from Sirius. "Offered me a purse of Galleons to stop dating you and threatened to have me killed."

Sirius frowned. "You must have intimidated her; she wasn't as viper-tongued as I thought she'd be," he quipped and sighed. "How did your grandmother take this?"

Althea lowered her head and noticed that her hands were trembling. "She said that I can't see you anymore," she answered quietly.

Althea waited for Sirius's sad reply, but instead he laughed. Althea looked up at him.

"I'm not surprised," he said, smiling. "No parent, or grandparent, would want me dating her daughter. Well, unless you're a Malfoy or some other upstart pure-blood family, but then again, that's questionable," he replied and winked. He noticed that Althea was not amused by his remark. "Althea, is everything all right?" he asked as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Althea shook her head. "No, Gran and I had an argument last night. It was awful," she said, suppressing new tears. "She doesn't believe you're different from your family. She doesn't understand. You're a Black, and eventually you'll succumb to your family…therefore, it's best if I never see you again."

For a few moments, Sirius did not respond. He rested his forehead against hers and massaged her shoulders with the palms of his hands. "Oh," he whispered and frowned. "Althea, how could Gran know about my family?"

"She's a witch," she whispered and sniffed back tears.

"She's a _what_?"

"She's a witch," she repeated, "descended from the Rynne family…and they've been witches and wizards for almost eight hundred years."

Sirius pulled away from Althea. His mouth contorted from a look of shock to humorous surprise. He looked as if he would speak, but instead, he shook his head.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asked and raised an eyebrow. "Sirius?"

"All that hell she put you through…and _she's_ a bloody witch?" he remarked and looked to Althea—he shook his head in disbelief once more. "What the hell would make her do that to you?"

Althea took a slow, deep breath and stared at the ant crawling across the stone. "She doesn't want the same thing to happen to me."

"What happen?"

She paused for a moment before speaking and continued to watch the ant as it climbed over the side of the stone and out of sight. "She believes you'll betray me," she answered and despised the way the words tasted in her mouth. "Like that boy that betrayed her. She lost everything because of his betrayal. That I would be killed—"

"WHAT?" Sirius roared as he stood, almost knocking Althea on to the grass and rubble. "I WOULD NEVER—I'M GOING BACK—"

Althea stood and grabbed his arms. "Sirius, calm down," she pleaded. "Sirius, _please_! I know you would never hurt me and that is what matters."

Sirius sighed and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "I could never hurt you," he said softly and slid his arms around her waist. "Why would she say that?"

Althea rested her hand on the back of his head and gently stroked his hair. "Gran went mad last night," she whispered as she coaxed him over to the large stone. "I'd never seen her so panicked."

"Panicked?"

Althea nodded as she sat. "Something very terrible happened to her, and I think to her family," she said, smoothing her skirt. "She believes she was the cause of it."

"They were killed?" Sirius asked as he sat next to her.

Althea shook her head. "I don't know—she didn't explicitly say it…. She had this chest in her bedroom and it contained many Rynne heirlooms…. I reckon they were killed."

"Horrible."

"Yes, very," she said and bit her bottom lip. She thought about Mrs. Black's words with Gran. "Do you know of the Rynne family?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Oh," she murmured. "Your mum seemed to know of them."

"My mother memorized _Nature's Nobility_ at eight years of age, so she should," he said and sighed.

"Did you have to read it?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Your family hasn't forced you to learn, then?"

"No," he answered, and picked up a small stone and rolled it between his index finger and thumb. "I reckon they've tried over the years, but I was such a disappointment…my brother is the good son. He won't befriend anyone unless that woman checks bloodlines." He threw the stone as far as he could. It fell into a thicket of weeds.

Althea leaned closer, hesitant and unsure of her words. "Gran believes…Gran believes that you're bound to your family—"

Sirius snorted with laughter. "Bound?" he said and smirked. "I was disowned."

Althea's eyes widened. "Disowned?"

"Yeah, burned off the family tree," he said, and despite his best effort, Althea could detect sadness. "Received a Howler, too."

"I'm so sorry," she said and placed her hand on his forearm.

Sirius shrugged. "She got what she wanted," he said bitterly. "She doesn't have to admit that I'm her son."

* * *

The afternoon summer sun had warmed the grass, rendering it a very comfortable place to sit. Althea lay next to Sirius, and watched the fluffy white clouds drift and form new shapes in the sky.

"My cousin's marrying next week." Sirius sighed and rested his hands underneath his head.

Althea continued to watch the clouds drift across the sky. "Narcissa?" she asked, somewhat surprised, turning her face toward him. "Isn't she too young?"

Sirius laughed and turned his head toward her. "What else is there to do?"

"Muggles marry later," she answered, frowning slightly.

"Well, Muggles also have things like university," he said and returned to gazing at the sky.

"So, it's common then—wizards and witches marrying early?"

"No, just witches," Sirius replied and sighed. "Wizards marry later—that's just how it's done, I suppose."

"That's silly," she replied, breaking off a blade of grass. "I don't want to marry at seventeen."

"Nor do I," he said and laughed. "I want to make my own way in this world."

Althea smiled. "Me too," she said and sighed.

Sirius smiled. "No more boring parties with suitable pure-blood prospects and their parents—"

"You never behaved, did you?"

"Never," he said, his smile growing. "I reckon most believed I was deranged…ruined all my mother's attempts at securing a wife."

Althea made a disgusted face. "Your family practices arranged marriages? I didn't think that possible."

"They're not arranged marriages—they're suggestions," he said and frowned. "Very strong suggestions—as long as she's rich and pure-blood—she'd do."

"Oh."

"I wouldn't doubt they'd do it if they could—have to keep the blood pure at all costs."

Althea sighed and closed her eyes. Did Sirius only think of her as a non-pure-blood, a means to leave his house and family? It would have been easier for him to leave. He loved collecting Muggle things—did he think her part of his collection? She had noticed that in the past, he had only dated non-pure-bloods. Was he so against the pure-blood mania that he actively sought out Muggle-borns and other non-pure-bloods? Since Althea disclosed that her grandmother was a witch, would he think less of her? Would he love her less?

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you…do you think less of me because my Gran's a witch?"

Sirius did not respond immediately. In her heart, Althea wished he would have. She wanted him to deny immediately that he thought less of her. _It is true then_, he does think less of me, she thought sadly, as she turned her head toward the sky.

Sirius turned on his side and rested his arm over her stomach. "I don't fancy you because of your blood," he replied softly as his fingers stroked the side of her abdomen. "Do you think I'm dating you because my loathsome family are blood purists?"

"Well—"

"That is bollocks, that's what that is," he said and reached into his pocket. Sirius handed her a small, clumsily wrapped box. "Happy Birthday."

"What's this?" she asked as she sat up.

"Your gift, of course," he replied and mustered a smile. "Come on, open it."

Althea tore off the wrapping and opened the small box. She gasped.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course!" she breathed as she examined her gift. "It is so beautiful. Thank you."

"Thanks, here," he replied, grinning, and took her hand. "I saw this in a Muggle antique shop. It was saved from some shipwreck off Bermuda," he added and slid the ring on her finger. "I remembered how much you loved Bermuda."

Althea gazed at her ring and slowly moved her finger up and down so the sunlight would catch the small amethyst stone and gold surrounding it. "I do," she whispered happily. "Thank you," she added and kissed his lips.

"You're welcome," he replied, smoothing the hair away from her face.

Althea frowned. "Sirius, this must have been so expensive. You can't afford that."

"Don't worry," he replied quietly as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "I traded in part of my inheritance for it."

"You shouldn't have done that. You need that money."

Sirius laughed. "What would I do with a hideous necklace?" he said and stuck his tongue out in disgust. "It was ugly, too. Two gold snakes with emerald eyes, holding a huge emerald between them."

"That does sound awful," she sneered.

Sirius laughed and kissed Althea's cheek. "Now some poor Muggle will wear that Black family heirloom," he said, and stroked away the hair that blew into her face. "It's perfect, really."

"Indeed," she said and slid her arms around his neck. "Is it cursed?"

"The necklace?"

Althea nodded.

"No," he said, gliding his hands down her sides and around her waist. "They only place a curse on the important items—the items relevant to the cause."

"Like what?"

"Like the family tree," he said and pressed his lips to hers.

Althea pulled away. "The family tree?"

Sirius sighed. "It doesn't like when someone is forcibly removed," he explained. "There have been a few Squibs blasted from the tree, but as they don't matter, the curse doesn't apply."

"What is the curse?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. I reckon no one knows—a family myth, really."

"Gran!" she gasped.

"Oh, come of it," he said. "Gran just doesn't want you happy."

"But she—"

"All summer she's prevented you from visiting your friends," he said, tracing small circles against the back of her dress. "It wouldn't matter if I were Muggle-born or a Muggle, Althea. She wouldn't like me—it's just convenient that my last name is Black."

Althea frowned.

"Right," he sighed and forced a smile. "I reckon it's time for us to return."

Althea wrinkled her nose.

"Cheer up, it won't be that awful," he said and tweaked her nose.

Althea sighed disappointedly. "It will be that awful," she said and sat back. "All the Muggles Gran approves of—all the grandchildren of her dear friends—"

"That one girl should be there, then?"

Althea shook her head. "Sophie is on holiday with her father and his new wife," she said and reclined onto the grass. She sighed and plucked one of the many small white flowers. "And I have nothing in common with John."

"John? Who's John?" he asked as he reclined next to her.

"The boy Gran wants me to see."

"Oh," Sirius replied. His jaw tightened and he placed a protective arm over her waist. "What's this John like?"

Althea bit her lip to cover up her smile at his jealousy. "He's a prefect at the boys' school and an athlete," she replied as she observed Sirius pale. "Also the grandson of the 8th Earl of Willingsborough—"

"Is he handsome?" Sirius bit the inside of his cheek.

Althea began to giggle. "Yes."

"What?" he said, frowning.

Althea cleared her throat. "You," she said, looking into his eyes. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Sirius scoffed and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm concerned about this John."

"Are you?" she asked coyly—her mouth upturning into a smile.

"He might try to take advantage of you."

"Be reasonable, Sirius."

"I am," he answered and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm staying for the party. I have to make sure this John behaves himself."

Althea laughed. "Sirius, how are you staying for the party? Gran will go mental if she sees you."

"Arf," Sirius replied playfully and kissed her lips.

* * *

_Happy birthday to me, but pay no attention to me—you boring lot…. Only here because I'm Lady Althea, nothing more_, Althea thought as she disappointedly stared at her fellow guests. She had nothing in common with them. _Maybe I'd find them interesting if they did something useful_, she thought, folding her arms. _The Muggles Lily knows are fascinating. I'd have more fun with Petunia's theater friends_. Althea noticed a petite blonde striding in her direction, and cringed—Marianne Fairchild-Forsythe.

"Althea, how good it is to see you," Marianne said happily, as she hugged Althea.

"Likewise," Althea mumbled as she pulled away.

Marianne smiled coyly. "Look at the way John Harrington is smiling at you," she teased and playfully nudged Althea's arm.

Althea feigned a smile.

"You know, John Harrington, 'the perfect boy,' is just an act," she added and winked.

"Oh," Althea replied and took a sip of punch. "I didn't know."

Althea looked in the direction of John. He was standing next to the food table, chatting with two other girls from wealthy families. Ever so often, he would look past the two girls at Althea, and Althea would desperately develop methods to avoid eye contact. Once Marianne had arrived, Marianne immediately divulged the secret proposal John Harrington had planned. He knew what Gran and his grandfather were planning, and he welcomed it. By the end of the party, John and Althea would be a couple. _How am I going to tell him no_, she thought as she took another sip of punch. _I have to remember to be polite_.

"He's had almost every girl here," Marianne whispered into Althea's ear.

"How can you be so sure?" Althea asked as she started to walk into the rose garden.

Marianne quickly followed. "Last year he took three girls onto his father's private yacht in the Mediterranean."

Althea sat on a marble bench and inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance of the roses. "And that's proof?"

Marianne looked at Althea sympathetically. "Althea, it's true—Celia was one of the girls," she explained and rested her hand on top of Althea's hand. "He looks amazing in his polo uniform," she said and sighed. "That blond hair, those chocolate eyes, the fantastic muscles—"

Althea rolled her eyes as she took a long sip of punch. Chocolate?

"Why don't you go out with him, then?"

"I would," she sighed dreamily. Marianne quickly shot Althea a suspicious look. "You already have someone, don't you?" she said and smiled.

Althea smiled and nodded.

"He attends that school you go to, doesn't he?" she replied, her eyes flashing mischievously.

Althea laughed quietly and placed her cup at her side.

"How fantastic it must be to date an American! They're so wild!" Marianne gasped and giggled.

Althea raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever met an American?"

Marianne frowned. "Once on holiday last year," she answered sadly. Althea remembered the long and tedious story of Marianne's failed love affair with an oil tycoon's son. "So what is your American boy like?"

"He's not American," Althea replied and crossed her legs. "He's English, in fact, he lives in London."

"London," she repeated loudly. "What family? What school?" she asked excitedly and squeezed Althea's hand.

Althea politely wiggled her hand free. "No family," she replied and forced herself to hide her smile. "He's not in school either."

Marianne gasped and squealed. "Althea, how absolutely devilish! What does he do?"

Althea paused for a moment—actor, photographer, lorry driver? "He's a musician."

"Does your grandmother know?"

"No, it's more fun that way," she quipped and winked.

Althea noticed Marianne straighten and blush.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but Althea, I would like to talk with you, privately," John said smoothly from behind her.

Althea sighed. Her fun with Marianne Fairchild-Forsythe was over. She knew what John wanted to talk about—his proposal for a relationship. With mild queasiness, Althea smiled with feigned politeness.

"Right, but do you mind if I take my dog along?" Althea said as she stood. "He hasn't been out all day."

"That's fine," John sighed. "Where is he?"

"He's in my bedroom," she explained and winced as John smiled. "I'll go collect him."

"Right," he replied with a forced smile. "Hurry back."

_As if I'd let him up to my bedroom_, she thought, walking toward the manor house. _I'm not one of those girls he can easily bed…. Just fancies me for my title and my money—all that Muggle money. I really pray that he doesn't start with the polo stories. 'Why don't you attend? It'd be brilliant if you came.' 'I find you all incredibly boring and don't want my face in every dull magazine.' No wonder my father rejected this life_. Althea entered the manor and walked up the staircase that led to the bedrooms. She opened the door to her bedroom, and found Sirius busily turning on and off the light switch. Althea, amused, stood at the door and watched him as he laughed every time the lamp would turn on.

"_Lumos_," he said and smiled as the lamp glowed. "_Nox_."

"Sirius, you don't have to say spells to turn on the lamp. Watch," she said as she walked over to him. Althea turned the light switch on and then off.

"Amazing," Sirius muttered and ran his fingers through his hair. "What Muggles come up with…are you having fun?"

"Of course, not," she said. "John would like to speak with me."

"Time to transform, then?"

Althea rested her hands on Sirius's chest. "I want to remind you. No hexing, jinxing, or cursing, _and_ no biting or mauling," she warned—her eyes narrowing.

"You take the fun out of everything," he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"And if you're a good boy, Snuffles," she continued and Sirius grinned widely, "you get a dog biscuit."

"What, no scratch behind the ears?"

"If you're good, yes," she replied and kissed his lips.

Althea left the manor with Snuffles happily running behind. _He seems to enjoy his Animagus form a little too much_, she thought as she walked up to John. _I think I would enjoy it, too, if my Animagus form were a dog_.

"So, this is your dog?" John said as he bent down to pet Snuffles. Snuffles growled as John's hand reached his ears. "Doesn't seem to like me."

_No he doesn't_, Althea thought to herself as she politely smiled at John. _You should be glad he only growled_.

"Oh, it takes him some time before he warms up to people," she said and patted Snuffles on his head. "Very protective sort of dog…had him for ages."

"Is he a very smart dog?"

Althea smiled. "Of course, he is. Snuffles, sit," she commanded and Snuffles sat. "Roll over."

Snuffles rolled over.

"Jump."

Snuffles jumped.

"Very well trained," John said with admiration. "Let me try. Sit," he said and pointed to the ground.

Snuffles turned his head to the side and stared at John.

"Sit."

Snuffles did not move.

"Fine then, stay."

Snuffles sat, and Althea could not contain her laughter.

"Enough of that, "John said, eyeing the dog warily. "Shall we go?"

Althea nodded.

John and Althea walked toward the lake, with Snuffles in between the two of them—a very attentive chaperone. Whenever John walked too close to her, Snuffles growled or nudged him away. The late afternoon sun's reflection shimmered on the smooth lake surface, periodically disrupted by a few wading ducks. A small rowboat was docked on the shore in a grove of reeds. _I can just imagine Sirius hexing him overboard_, she thought as John motioned toward the grassy bank. Althea sat on the warm grass, and John sat next to her. _Let's just get this over with_, she thought as Snuffles snuggled close to her.

Althea smiled politely as John's demeanor regarded her with some casualness.

"Grand's pleased I'm a prefect, you know," he said, his hand stroking the grass between them.

"I dated a prefect once."

"Oh—oh you did?"

Althea nodded. _And then, he tried to eat me_, she thought, glancing toward Snuffles.

"You must like your school, then?" Althea asked and rested her hand on Snuffles head.

"I do, very much so," he replied and cleared his throat. "Althea, there's something I must tell you."

Althea's throat constricted and prevented her from taking normal breaths. _Here we go_.

"Althea, I know about Sirius."

The blood quickly drained from Althea's face and Snuffles raised his head. "How—how do you know about Sirius?"

John smiled sweetly. "Your grandmother told me," he explained and leaned closer to her. "What an odd name, too—_Sirius_."

Althea slid her hand to Snuffles's neck. "I think it's a wonderful name," she replied and Snuffles's tail wagged against her side. "Are you to convince me that he a poor choice?"

John nodded. "I can offer you so much more," he whispered as he stroked the side of her face. "The right parties, the right invitations, my father has a yacht—"

"I know," she said, removing his hand from her face.

"He's not like us, Althea, not part of our set. We have…certain standards, if you will. He'd embarrass himself."

"Likely," she sneered, narrowing her eyes.

Snuffles began to growl as John continued, "Althea, you and I, we'd be perfect together—if you know what I mean."

Suddenly, Snuffles leaped forward, knocking John to the ground. For a moment, Althea wanted to leave Snuffles on top of John—growling within inches of his face.

"SNUFFLES!" shouted Althea with mock horror as she wrapped her arms around Snuffles's middle and attempted to pry him off John. "GET DOWN!" she roared, finally removing Snuffles from John.

"That dog needs to be neutered!" John growled as he sat up. "Unruly and awful—deranged too!"

Snuffles, exposing his teeth, continued to growl ferociously.

"He doesn't!" Althea replied sharply and scratched the whimpering Snuffles behind the ears. "He's a wonderful, albeit _overly protective_ sort of dog," she explained, resting her hand atop Snuffles's head. "He's far from deranged, I can assure you." She looked to Snuffles and through gritted teeth said, "_Behave_."

"Behave, indeed," he laughed, smoothing the blond hair away from his face. "I'd hate to see his reaction to that Sirius."

"They're best mates," she said, her lips quivering into a smile. "Snuffles loves Sirius."

Snuffles barked happily and Althea roughly rubbed his back.

"You're mysterious," he said, moving closer, "you really are."

Althea frowned. _He doesn't waste time_, she thought as she absentmindedly scratched Snuffles behind the ears.

"Me? How am I mysterious?" she asked and placed both of her hands in her lap.

"I hardly know anything about you," he explained, taking a strand of her hair in his hand. "No one does."

"I don't have many friends outside of school," she said, removing her hair from his hand.

John stroked the side of her face. "No, it's more than that…almost _bewitching_," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.

Althea moved back and put her hands up to block him—punching him if needed.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!" Sirius shouted and knocked a stunned John to the ground.

Althea covered her face and groaned. "Sirius, what are you doing?" she bemoaned as Sirius held his hand around John's throat.

"NEUTER ME, WILL YOU?" he shouted as he pointed his wand between John's eyes.

"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WHERE'S—WHERE'S HER DOG?" John yelled frantically.

"ARF! ARF!" Sirius roared.

Althea gingerly rubbed her temple. "This is all too much," she muttered and shook her head. "Sirius, get off him. Do you want your wand broken?"

"WAND? WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE?" John shouted, his face contorting to express absolute horror.

"_Stupefy_," Sirius muttered and John went limp.

"Sirius, you're in huge trouble," Althea remarked as she shook her head.

"So?" he snorted as he sat next to her. "There's no law against what I did…yet."

Althea frowned. "I could have handled him, you know. I had my fist ready," she said, looking into his eyes. "You don't need to protect me."

Sirius frowned—obviously hurt by her words. "So, I reckon I'm useless then?" he muttered and ran his fingers through his hair.

Althea furrowed her eyebrows and sighed. "You're not useless," she reassured as she slid her arms around his neck. "I reckon your fist would've sufficed," she continued and kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you."

Sirius wrapped his arms around her waist. "I think we can leave him here, don't you?" he said, regaining his cheerfulness.

"As much as I would love to, no," she replied and sighed as she twirled strands of hair from the back of his head in her index and middle fingers. "The party guests would suspect."

Sirius sighed disappointedly. "I suppose I'll revive him, and you have the honors of the Memory Charm," he said sadly.

Althea smiled. "Oh, I think we can wait awhile on the Memory Charm," she replied and winked.

"Miss Morrigan, they'll break your wand for this," Sirius replied with feigned concern.

"So?" Althea snorted, trying her best to impersonate Sirius. "There's no law against it…yet."


	26. Hogwarts, Early February 1994

**Hogwarts, February 1994**

_"Good morning, my love," Althea said sweetly as she opened the bedroom door. _

_She walked over to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains. She gazed out the window and watched the sparrows as they flew onto the bird feeder. Suddenly, the bird feeder swung violently, a squirrel leapt onto the bird feeder, scaring the sparrows away. _It is that same squirrel_, Althea thought as she rested her hands on her hips. _

_"It's a beautiful day," she said as she continued to look at the garden. "We'll have to go for a walk later." _

_Althea sighed as she took one last look out the window. The squirrel had opened the bird feeder, its contents poured onto the grass, and greedily eaten by the squirrel. _Now I have to fill the bird feeder up again_, she thought as she walked over to Sirius's bed. Althea sat on the side of Sirius's bed and pulled back the blankets. _

_"Good morning, sleepy," she said, as she stroked the hair from his face. "I made your favorite breakfast," she said as she took a handkerchief from her pocket. _

_Gently, she wiped the corners of his mouth and kissed his cold forehead. His forehead never used to be cold; at one time, it was quite warm. In fact, he used to be quite warm. She vividly remembered the night the Ministry caught Sirius. If only she could have reached him before the dementors. She was ready, with the knife in her hand and the promise she made to herself. She would see Sirius die before his soul was taken from him. Althea closed her eyes in attempt to stop her mind from replaying the events. She remembered two voices screaming—her voice as Ministry officials restrained her, and his voice, as the dementor lifted him from the ground. If only she had struggled harder! She shrieked in horror as she saw his soul leaving his body and entering the dementor. The shrieking had stopped and Althea could not breathe. She would never forget that moment—the moment when Sirius' screams were no longer his own, but outside his body…the Kiss was over. The Ministry officials loosened their grips and Althea flung herself to Sirius' side. She looked into his grey eyes—now vacant—and cradled him into her arms. She must have held him for an hour, and violently refused every effort to remove her from his limp body. The Ministry suggested they handle the disposal of Sirius's body, but Althea refused. _

_It had been two years since that night, and the effects had become overwhelming for Althea. She tried to make his new life as comfortable as it could be. Every morning she took him for walks around the garden, and sometimes in the late afternoon into town. She understood that he did not recognize anything she said or did, but naïvely, she believed that somehow he was able to fight off the dementor so that just a microscopic measure of his soul remained. This was what kept her alive. _

_Althea kissed Sirius's forehead, and left to bring him his breakfast. She returned with pumpkin juice and sat at his side. Carefully, she raised him up and tilted the cup so that he could drink. _

_"There you go," she said softly as she took the cup from his lips. _

_Sirius absentmindedly continued to smack his lips together as Althea wiped the corners of his mouth. She placed his head back on his pillow, and finished the aconitine-laced pumpkin juice. Slowly, she slid next to him and wrapped his arms around her. _

_"It's better this way," she said softly and kissed his lips. How she wished this one time, they would kiss her back. _

_She rested her head against his thin chest, and waited for both of their heartbeats to fade…._

Althea gasped as she woke from her nightmare. It was the third night that week she had that frightening dream. _Why would I dream such horrific things_, she thought, blinking her sleepy eyes. She rolled over onto her side and pulled her bedclothes tighter around her. _The dementors_, she thought, closing her eyes. _They're guarding Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. My thoughts…have been so melancholy lately_. Indeed, as the Ministry had increased its security efforts the presence of the dementors increased their affect upon Althea. How she longed for sunshine and not a grey and dismal sky. No amount of chocolate sweets or chocolate cake would brighten her thoughts. She was too embarrassed to go to Madam Pomfrey or Professor Flitwick for a more complicated Cheering Charm. Why would the Muggle Studies professor need such a charm? To others, her life might've seemed mundane, but it certainly wasn't depressive. _Think of Bermuda_, she thought, imagining herself standing upon the grass swept cliff overlooking the clear aqua waters of the bay. _You can last a few more months, can't you_?

Unexpectedly, Althea heard footsteps in her room. Althea did not dare move as the footsteps stopped at the edge of her bed. She recognized those footsteps and shut her mouth tightly to prevent her screaming.

"Althea?" the man whispered hoarsely as he sat beside her.

It felt as if Althea's heart exploded in her chest. _Sirius!_ her mind screamed as she prayed he would not see she was awake. A confusion of thoughts swirled in her mind. To kill, to subdue, or to reason with him—to know why he had betrayed them all? Her wand was upon her nightstand—would she be quick enough to subdue him? He sat between her and her wand. Would their struggle create enough noise for others to hear? Would her screams be heard? She could fight him—she had before. Hadn't she wanted this confrontation ten years ago? Now he was in her presence, unprotected by bars and by dementors…vulnerable to her rage that Sister Margaret had helped her suppress. Could she truly hand him over to the Ministry? Could she subject Sirius Black to the Kiss? Too terrified to move, Althea pretended to remain asleep and forced her body to keep from trembling.

"Althea? God, it can't be…you're—you're supposed to be dead," he whispered and sniffed quietly.

_Is he crying_, she wondered as it took every ounce of her to keep her eyes closed. Why would the man that wanted her dead shed tears for her? With his thin hand, Sirius stroked the side of Althea's face and she succumbed to the pleasant feeling it invoked.

"It even feels like you," he whispered as he ran his fingertips along her cheek. "God, I—"

Althea swallowed a large amount of air. Her eyes stung and burned from the pressure of her held-back tears. _Scream, you stupid girl_, she thought—but she couldn't let her voice escape.

"I love you," he whispered and took a lock of hair between his fingertips. He inhaled deeply.

Althea clenched her hand into a tight fist—her nails digging into her skin. He loved her? The man who betrayed her best friend to Voldemort, who made Harry Potter an orphan, who murdered thirteen people with one curse, and who sent Death Eaters to kill her…loved her?

"This is too sickeningly real." He released the strand of hair and leaned closer to her face.

Althea's throat constricted and her lungs refused to exhale. She could smell the earth and sweat and Azkaban upon him.

"But you can't be my Althea," he whispered darkly—his warm breath caused her neck to tingle. "She wouldn't have let me rot in Azkaban for _twelve bloody years_—"

_Now!_ her mind screamed and she opened her eyes wide in the darkness. She thrust her arm toward her nightstand and felt Sirius do the same. She grabbed her wand and, in one fluid movement, plunged her wand at Sirius's chest—a ball of bright blue light erupted from her wand. His gaunt face illuminated by the light—his dead eyes wide—Althea gasped at the sight of him as he was propelled backward, his thin frame crashing into Althea's mirror and dressing table. Glass and metal created a sickening sound as they fell to the floor along with Sirius. She held her wand before her at the slumped frame upon the stone floor. She heard him gasp for breath and groan. _Kill him and be done with it_, she thought as Sirius yelped at the shard of glass his hand had slapped against. He was so pitiful, so pathetic, before her. He wasn't the man that could laugh after murdering thirteen people. Nor was he the man, whose arrogance could not be subdued in Azkaban. _You know what is meant for him_, she thought as Sirius shuffled along the floor. With a loud _bang_, silver cords streaked through the darkness toward Sirius's form and by his growl, she knew she had him. Althea crawled toward the edge of her bed. Sirius thrashed about the floor and growled, muttering threats toward his captor. _I want to know_, she thought, her hands grasping the footboard.

Althea inhaled through the painful constriction of her chest. "Why?" she asked, her voice quiet and steady.

Sirius had stopped struggling. He let out a sob. "God."

Althea lifted her lit wand and peered over her bed. Sirius, bound with gleaming silver cords, did not struggle as he lay upon his side. Instead, thick tears coursed his sallow face as he refused to look up at her. Her chest heaving with every breath, Althea contemplated what to do with Sirius. She couldn't release him to the Ministry…the Kiss awaited him. She would call for Remus. They would deal with Sirius. If her nerve failed her, Remus would complete what needed to be done. He would kill Sirius.

"Please," he breathed and sniffed, "please say my name, please."

Althea furrowed her eyebrows at the strange request as Sirius continued to murmur his pleas.

"Sirius."

Sirius's anguish had softened and he tightly shut his eyes. "I love you," he murmured. "I love you."

The bile rose in Althea's throat. _Don't you dare_, she thought as Sirius murmured his love for her.

"Your Althea is dead," she said and swallowed. "You helped to kill her."

"_No_!" he growled, slamming his bound fists against the floor. "I would never hurt—"

"You did," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "I won't forgive you."

"Then do it," he said, his eyes refusing to look upon Althea. "Kill me."

Althea raised her wand at the still figure of Sirius. She inhaled, parting her lips to utter the first word of the Killing Curse. Sirius remained still and she adjusted her grip upon her wand. What would it feel like to utter those words and to have such a curse course through one's wand? Was it like holding a knife to someone's throat? Althea knew that feeling intimately. She had wished a similar fate for Sirius, but why struggle when one didn't have to? She tightly curled her fingers around the smooth handle of her wand. Suddenly, loud pounding upon her door jolted Althea and she let out a scream—the silver bindings falling from Sirius's form. Althea heard Sirius quickly scramble away as she leapt from her bed. A quick flick of her wand and the gas lamps sputtered on—Sirius was nowhere to be found. She grabbed her dressing gown and slipped it on as she headed for the door. With great strength, she opened the heavy door to see Remus—his face exceptionally pale and his eyes worried.

"Remus! Remus, what happened?" she asked frantically, as she pulled him into her quarters.

"Sirius broke into the boys' dormitory," he said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "He had a knife."

Althea convulsed violently and dropped to the ground sobbing. Sirius would have killed her. _I'm a coward_, she thought, covering her face. _I shouldn't have let him go_.

"Althea? Althea, is everything all right?" he asked, his voice strained, as he knelt beside her. "What happened here?"

Althea shook her head as she continued to sob. "He—he was here," she said between sobs and pointed to her room.

"Here? Sirius?" he asked and placed his hands on her shaking shoulders.

Althea nodded. "He—he touched me," she replied, her voice trembling, her fingertips touching where his had been. She closed her eyes—the tears burning her eyes. "He knows it's me."

"Oh," he replied softly, and Althea noticed he attempted to hide his own worry.

Althea inhaled a deep, unsteady breath. "He told me that he loved me," she whispered and started to cry again.

"Come on," he said soothingly, as he pulled her up off the floor. "You're not staying here."

Remus held Althea as the two walked the corridor to his quarters. Althea, her legs weak, was sure if he did not hold on to her, she would've surely fallen to the floor. Remus kissed her cheek and opened the door to his quarters. Compared to Althea's comfortable and lush quarters, Remus's were sparse. He could not afford much, and most of his things were books and papers. His books and papers were scattered around the room, in what he referred to as organized clutter, but Althea could not see organization to the strewn papers and piles of books. Once, Althea decided to clean up for him, and then he spent the entire day looking for his misplaced paper on the threatened bog habitats of hinkypunks in North America.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Remus said and kissed her forehead. He took the glass once filled with the sparkling purple Sleeping Potion and placed it on the nightstand.

"Right, thank you," she murmured as Remus did his best to smile pleasantly.

"There," he said as he tucked the blankets around Althea. "Sleep well."

Althea smiled at his fatherly gesture. _Remus, you take such good care of me_, she thought as she closed her eyes, waiting for sleep, _I don't deserve this_.

* * *

_"Remus, this isn't necessary," she said as Remus sat next to her on the bed. _

_"Yes, it is," he said and smoothed out the blanket. "You need your rest," he added and stood. _

_Remus took blankets from his closet and started to make a bed for himself on the floor. _Still so noble_, she thought as she watched Remus place a pillow at the head of his makeshift bed. _

_"Remus, you don't have to sleep on the floor," Althea said as she sat up. "You can sleep up here," she added and patted the bed. _

_"No, it's fine. Surprisingly comfortable, really," he replied and patted the blankets. _

_Althea rolled her eyes. "Stop lying," she said and folded her arms. "I won't try anything. I haven't tried anything with you in almost ten years," she added, smiling. _

_"Really, I'm comfortable—"_

_"If you don't come up here, I'll come down there." _

_"Fine," he sighed and stood from his makeshift bed. _

_He crawled under the blankets and folded them across his chest. He stared at the ceiling and sighed. _

_"I didn't know sleeping in the same bed as me could be torture," she quipped and smiled. _

_"It isn't," he said and continued to look at the ceiling. "I thought you'd want the bed to yourself, that's all." _

_Althea did not respond right away; instead, she bit her bottom lip. "Remus," she began slowly, "are you happy?" _

_She turned her head to look at Remus. He frowned for a moment in thought. "I suppose I am," he replied and turned his head toward her. "Are you?"_

_"I suppose so," she answered and sighed. "I mean, this is the life I wanted when I was younger—single and traveling."_

_"But, you're lonely." _

_Althea quietly laughed. "You say it like you know how it feels," she said and turned on her side. _

_"It's the life of the werewolf," he sighed and turned on his side. _

_"It doesn't have to be," Althea replied. "I remember a time when you weren't lonely." _

_Remus sighed. "I remember, but things change," he said sadly. "I'm too old."_

_"Remus, we're the same age," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "You can't tell me, that in all this time, you didn't fall in love with anyone else?"_

_"I did," he said quietly. _

_"You did?" she asked as she stared into his pale eyes. _

_Remus nodded. _

_"Did you ever tell her?" she asked and rested her head on her forearm. _

_"No," he said, still staring into her eyes. "Her heart belonged to someone else." _

_Althea frowned. "Is she still with that man she loved?" _

_Remus shook his head. _

_"Do you still love her?" she asked and bit her lip. _

_Remus nodded. _

_"Then go find her, Remus. Don't live your life alone. Find her and tell her you love her," she demanded and continued to stare into his eyes. "Don't worry about her reply. Chances are she might love you, too." _

_Remus cleared his throat. "What if I've found her?" _

_"Then tell her," she demanded. "Don't wait."_

_"Now?"_

_"Now." _

_"I love you." _

_Althea's body warmed immediately and her neck prickled with heat. Dizzy, Althea blinked. "What?" she mumbled breathlessly. She wanted to form the words I love you, too, but they became choked in her throat. _

_"I love you," he repeated slowly. _

_"You don't know how long I've waited to hear that," she said softly as Remus stroked her cheek with his thumb. _

_She clutched his hand in hers and placed it against her cheek. Remus moved closer to her and kissed her forehead. _

_"I love you, too," she said and stroked the side of his face. _

_Remus turned his head and softly kissed the inside of her wrist, sending electrical sparks down her arm and into her chest. He let go of her hand and gently pulled her face to his…._

The sounds of children running and laughing woke Althea. Stretching, she realized that Remus must have gotten up earlier. Althea sighed; she looked forward to a bit of a lie in with him.

"Good morning," he said, smiling. "I made you a cup of tea," he added, handing her the cup.

Althea looked down at the floor and noticed the bed Remus had made the night previous had been slept in. She then looked at herself, and noticed her nightgown was were she left it—on her. Althea sat up and rubbed her forehead. Nothing had happened. _Bloody Sleeping Potion_, she thought, and smiled as she took the cup of tea.

She took a sip of tea. "Earl Grey with plenty of sugar—just the way I like it," she said and smiled. "I don't remember ever falling asleep."

"You fell asleep as soon as your head made contact with the pillow."

"And you slept on the floor, then?" she asked and Remus nodded. "You could have slept up here."

"I didn't want to disturb you," he replied and cleared his throat. "I took the liberty of telling Dumbledore at breakfast that Sirius had entered your quarters," he continued, sitting upon the bed. "Dumbledore agrees with me that it would be best if you moved your quarters for the time being."

"I agree completely," Althea remarked and took another sip of tea.

"Good," he replied and kissed her forehead. "I have some things I need to get done in my office. Stay here as long as you like," he finished and stood. "Oh, and Dumbledore would like to speak with us this afternoon."

"Right," she muttered and took another sip.

Althea watched him as he walked over to the door and exited the room.

"Cheers," she muttered as she held up her cup.

Finishing her cup, she placed it on the nightstand next to the bed. Althea sighed and slid underneath the warm blankets once more.

"Why can't I have normal dreams like everyone else?" she sighed, absentmindedly stroking the side of the bed next to her.

* * *

Althea listened to the _clang_ and _clink_ of various metal instruments and gadgets as she sat before Dumbledore's desk. Not much had changed in decoration in over twenty years. Still, the portraits of the former headmasters hung upon the walls and she silently groaned when she spotted Phineas—the most hated of Hogwarts headmasters. Phineas eyed her as well.

"Aren't you a little old for such escapades," Phineas sneered, looking from Althea to Remus. "A werewolf…it suits you. Next, it'll be a centaur—"

"Phineas," Dumbledore warned.

"Never trust a Muckblood—"

"I thought you'd be proud of your Sirius," she said, crossing her legs. "He wasn't such a disappointment to the cause, after all."

"Insolent girl!" he said, sitting forward. "Dumbledore!"

"_Phineas_," Dumbledore warned and folded his hands in his lap.

Phineas huffed and folded his arms. "Insubordination!" he muttered.

Dumbledore disregarded Phineas's mutterings as he studied Althea. "Althea, I trust you find your new quarters satisfactory?"

Althea nodded. "Thank you, Headmaster," she said quietly, chipping at her nail polish. "Very comfortable, thank you."

"Ah, good," he said, "good."

She gently bit her bottom lip. What more did Dumbledore have to say to her? What more could he do to guarantee the safety of the children? The thought that Sirius Black could come in contact with Prudence caused Althea's nail to slip as she chipped the polish—she winced at the newly formed scratch upon the skin of her thumb.

"Remus told me some details about last night," he said, looking from Althea to Remus, "but I believe it is best I hear it from you."

Althea nodded. How much was she to tell Dumbledore? That she had been a coward and couldn't kill Sirius? That she let him go? That he told her that he loved her? Althea fiercely swallowed—she would not tell Dumbledore of his declaration of love.

"Right," she breathed and furrowed her brow. "Don't think ill of me."

"I wouldn't dare to."

Althea inhaled a shaky breath before she spoke, "I woke to find him at my bedside. I don't think he realized I was awake…I'm not sure if he believed it was real, really." She felt Remus's little finger intertwined with hers. "The madness of Azkaban—those flashbacks. It can sort of do that to a person…and he'd been there so long."

"Did he…say anything to you?"

Althea nodded. _I remember everything he said to me_. The image of a broken Sirius Black upon her floor sobbing for forgiveness was a memory she could not erase.

"He knew it was me," she said and felt Remus take her hand, "but he was confused because he thought me dead."

"Was he angry?"

Althea stared before her at the trinkets upon Dumbledore's desk. "No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Relieved, I think…or still in disbelief."

"Ah."

"Why would he be relieved, sir? If he wanted me—" She sighed. "He said that if I was his Althea, I wouldn't have let him rot for twelve years in Azkaban," she said and looked up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"What did he mean by that? How could I have helped him?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully upon Althea. "The evidence against Sirius was overwhelming," he said, sitting forward. "I gave evidence against him, as well."

Althea felt as if her mind was being pried open. She thought about Sirius whispering that he loved her and she frowned. _How could he love me after what was done_? Althea gulped. _Unless_... Althea pinched her thigh to stop the thoughts that would ever so often drift into her mind. _He didn't trade my life for theirs...he didn't_.

"You were correct," he said, leaning back in his chair. "It was the madness of Azkaban. For twelve years, he has lived without a single happy thought…his mind corrupted. Now, with each day he is away from Azkaban, the memories continue to return."

Remus leaned forward. "So, he might not truly be aware," he said and gently squeezed Althea's hand. "Memories and reality—"

"Are muddied," Dumbledore confirmed.

Althea sighed. "Why would he wait twelve years?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "I don't know," he said, looking from Althea to Remus. "Fudge has been less than helpful in his assessment of Sirius prior to his escape."

"What did he say?" Remus asked.

"That Sirius asked to do a crossword puzzle—"

Althea made a guttural noise. "I reckon he'll say he was bored in Azkaban," she muttered, folding her arms. The thought that Sirius could be so coherent after twelve years surrounded by madness unnerved her. "Will he come back?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "Your quarters will remain changed for the time being…and Fudge has added more dementors."

Althea made a face. She had to increase her dose of Cheering Charms to three times a week. _I might need Madam Pomfrey_, she thought as Dumbledore detailed the increased security to the pair.

"And the children?"

"They are safe."

Althea vigorously shook her head. "Not good enough," she said, stabbing at the armrest with her forefinger. "I want extra protections placed upon Gryffindor Tower."

Dumbledore nodded. "Reasonable."

"Thank you," she murmured.

_Should've been done before_, she thought, narrowing her eyes at the headmaster. _Slashing the Fat Lady's portrait, almost stabbing the Weasley boy…what if he saw her? He would know our Prudence instantly_.

"Althea," Dumbledore began, "do you have any idea how Sirius entered your quarters? It was locked, was it not, Remus?"

Remus nodded.

Althea was hesitant to answer. She fiercely blushed. "My bedroom…it has a false wall that leads to a corridor," she said, looking toward her scarlet robes. She wore a color similar that night her seventh-year. "Sirius knows that sort of thing."

"Ah, I see."

Out of her periphery, she noticed Remus had covered his face with his trembling hand. _I won't tell_, she thought, grasping for Remus's other hand.

"Sirius and I…during our sixth- and seventh-years, we'd sneak out of Hogwarts," she explained and Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly. "Dates to Hogsmeade and rock concerts," she added, nervously tucking a curl behind her ear. "I don't know how many times I hopped on the back of his broom out my dormitory window."

"I will take care of that," Dumbledore said with a faint, amused smile.

Althea looked up at the portrait of Phineas, who seemed horrified at her disclosure about his great-great grandson. _He's mad_, she thought as Phineas looked to have swallowed bile, _and he knows Hogwarts better than anyone_.


	27. Hogwarts, February 1977 Part I

**Hogwarts, February 1977**

"Althea," Sirius whispered softly. "Althea, wake up."

Althea slowly opened her eyes, blinking as the blurry image Sirius came into focus. She gasped from surprise—he was smiling, his face within inches of hers. Sirius covered her mouth with his hand, and brought his finger to his lips, insinuating for her to keep quiet.

Althea removed his hand from her mouth. "Sirius, what are you doing here?" she asked, still sleepy.

Sirius smiled and kissed her cheek. "Good morning," he whispered cheerfully.

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "Sirius, _what are you doing here_?" she asked—somewhat leery of his answer—as she stared into his eyes. "How did you get into the dormitory?"

"_Magic_," he replied, his smile broadening.

"It's not funny," she scolded quietly.

Sirius started to chuckle.

"_Stop_," she insisted, her own lips twitching into a smile, "What if Lily wakes up? Or Jane? _Stop_."

Sirius shook his head as his chuckled deepened.

Althea rolled her eyes as Sirius leaned closer. "You'll get in massive—"

Sirius's lips interrupted Althea from finishing her reprimand. Without much reluctance, Althea allowed herself to enjoy his kisses for a moment, but with her hands finally pushed him away.

Althea frowned, and Sirius playfully frowned back. "Sirius, please, if you don't tell me what you're doing here, I'll scream," she threatened, folding her arms.

Sirius licked his lips as he stared at her, incredulous. "You wouldn't," he smirked.

Althea inhaled a deep breath, and started as if she was going to scream. Sirius's eyes widened and he immediately threw his hand over her mouth. Althea began to shake with laughter, and pried Sirius's hand from her mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your Captain needs you," he answered, sitting beside her.

Althea brought her hands to her face and groaned. "Good Lord, what does Potter want now?" she grumbled and flung her arms to her sides.

"Early morning practice," he replied, frowning. "He's already at the pitch."

"What about everyone else?"

"Oh, they don't have to come. It's two hours of Snitch practice," he said and smiled.

Althea frowned. "He's really worried about Slytherin this year," she said, as she sat up and rubbed her forehead.

"You remember the game in October? They killed Hufflepuff and Hufflepuff was competing with us for the Cup last year," he replied, stroking the gold embroidery of her blanket.

"Right," she muttered and sighed with disappointment. She wished she could have slept longer before the match later in the afternoon. "I'll meet you downstairs," she added and kissed Sirius's cheek.

Sirius stood from her bed and changed into his Animagus shape. Snuffles happily trotted toward the door and down the stairs. _I should have known_, she thought as she stood from her bed. _He does enjoy it very much…almost too much_.

* * *

"Sirius?" Althea asked as she looked around the common room. "Sirius?" she repeated as she continued to look around the common room.

Curled up on the couch was Sirius, who was steadfastly asleep.

"Sirius, wake up," she said as she shook his shoulder.

Sirius mumbled incoherently and pulled his robe over his head.

"Fine, then," she sighed and began to tickle his sides.

Sirius wiggled and rolled around the couch as Althea continued to tickle him. "St-st-stop!" he shouted laughingly, his voice cracking.

Sirius grabbed Althea's hands and Althea continued to giggle as she stared down at him.

"I'll have James make it three hours of Snitch practice," he teased and Althea playfully pouted. "Come on," he said and let go of her hands, "time to catch the Snitch."

The frost-covered ground crunched underneath their feet as Sirius and Althea walked toward the Quidditch pitch. _It is too early_, she thought as she gazed at the orange and yellow sunrise. _Potter is being unreasonable…as usual_.

"Where's your broom, Morrigan?" James asked as he landed.

Althea sighed and watched as her warm breath materialized before her in the crisp morning air. "I just got here, Potter," she said, placing her hands on her hips.

"No excuse," he replied shortly and nodded toward the shed. "Get your broom."

"Right," she murmured and turned on her heel in the direction of the shed. "See, I'm walking to the shed right now," she added, as she grudgingly walked toward the shed, and added in a low breath, "idiot."

_I've never seen him this nervous before a game_, she thought as she entered the broom shed. _He's the best Chaser Gryffindor—if not Hogwarts—ever had and he's never lost the Quaffle—at least that I can remember_. Althea returned to the Quidditch pitch, carrying her broom over her shoulder. James, attempting to maintain a stern face, sat on his broom with his arms folded, waiting for her. Althea was suspicious of the expression on James's face. That expression meant he was up to something, and that something usually landed him in detention.

"What did you do to my broom?" Althea asked as she removed it from her shoulder. She examined her broom and found no obvious signs of tampering.

"I didn't do anything to your broom," James replied, kicking the ground with his heels. "Why would I want to hurt something as fantastic as a Nimbus 1500?"

"You're right," she sighed and hopped onto her broom. "Let's get on with this."

Sirius and James began laughing, and Althea immediately jumped off her broom.

"You _did_ do something to it!" she yelled as she charged toward James and Sirius. "James Potter—"

Sirius held his side from laughter. "Did you bother looking up at the roof?" he asked and erupted in laughter.

"Bloody hell," she breathed as she gazed, wide-eyed, at the Hogwarts roof.

Professor Erlenmeyer, in his taupe dressing gown and nightcap, absentmindedly paced up and down the Hogwarts roof. Periodically, he would stop as if in deep thought—either scratch his head or fold his arms—and continue to pace again. His pacing continued for twenty minutes; afterwards, he returned to the comfort of his bed, which found its way onto the Hogwarts roof along with all of his effects. The effects—furniture, clothes, trunks, and a full-length mirror—were laid neatly as if his quarters had always been the Hogwarts roof.

"Do you think he'll sleep there?" James asked, leaning back on his broom.

Althea abruptly stopped laughing. "You did this?" she asked and bit her lip to prevent her snickering.

Sirius rested his hand on Althea's shoulder. "Please, we're past the mere childish pranks," he scoffed, pointing to the Hogwarts roof.

"And that is why you put Erlenmeyer on the roof," she quipped and folded her arms.

"Exactly," Sirius replied, smiling, and kissed her lips.

James made an awful grunting noise at which Althea smiled as she continued to kiss Sirius. _He still doesn't like that Sirius and I are dating_, she thought, pulling away from Sirius. _I suppose it does take some getting used to…Sirius and me_.

"Wait, what is he trying to do?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow, as she looked toward the roof.

Professor Erlenmeyer, standing, grimaced and clenched his fists at his sides. He kicked his right foot forward and spun, his arms waving wildly as he attempted to balance himself.

"Is he having a fit?" she asked, raising and then furrowing her eyebrows. "Should we help him, or something?"

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "He's trying to Apparate, the wanker," he remarked, running his fingers through his hair.

"But he _can't_ do that," she replied and giggled lowly. "Everyone knows you can't do that."

"But obviously he doesn't," James replied, smiling. "This is so worth it."

Althea sighed. "Well, I suppose we should start practicing," she said and hopped onto her broom.

James, wide-eyed, disbelievingly looked at Althea. "You're not going to help him?"

"No," she snorted and kicked off into the air. "I don't want him on my broom—touching me," she replied and shuddered.

"Excellent point," Sirius said as he flew next to her.

"Anyway, have you seen him on a broom? I'm surprised he passed his Apparition exam," she remarked and flew in circles around Sirius. "I haven't seen flying like that since—"

"_Snivellus_," Sirius interrupted and dived toward James.

Althea threw her head back and sighed. _Someone's going to end up in hospital wing before the match_, she thought as she flew down to James and Sirius. Severus sat off to the side observing the three.

"What is that slimy git doing here?" Sirius asked.

"Probably reporting back to his friends," James replied as he eyed Severus warily. "Too afraid they don't have enough talent—the cowards."

"We don't need to practice anyway," Althea replied, as she looked at Severus with the same amount of caution. "We're loads better."

James shook his head. "No, we do. I hate to admit it, but Slytherin has a good team this year. The Seeker—"

"Only caught the Snitch because he got his hands on Felix Felicis," she interrupted, folding her arms.

"It's the only way he's able to stay on his broom," Sirius said and winked.

"Sirius, really," she laughed.

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "What? It's the truth! Althea, you've seen my brother fly…anyway, he'll be to busy dodging Bludgers."

"I hope so," she said, fighting a smile. "Release the Snitch!" she yelled to James.

James sighed and opened the compartment that held the Snitch.

"Now, release the Bludgers!" she shouted, watching the Snitch circle Sirius's head.

"Althea, no. I'm not hitting Bludgers at you," Sirius said in earnest as he swatted the Snitch away.

"Yes, you are," she replied, as she spotted a Bludger to her right. "The Slytherins will try to knock me off my broom."

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Someone's nervous about Slytherin," he teased, and with great force sent a Bludger directly toward Snape. Snape dove out of the way just in time. "Damn," he mumbled, frowning. "Didn't see you there, Snivellus!" he shouted at Snape, who was panting on the ground.

"You need practice, too," she replied and ducked as a Bludger whizzed passed her head. "You have to practice aiming at the Slytherin Seeker," she continued and shot high into the air. "I want to see him knocked off his broom!"

From above, she watched Sirius as he fought off Bludgers, and sent them in Snape's direction. She laughed aloud as Snape ducked and—surprisingly—somersaulted to avoid the Bludgers. She was somewhat impressed with Snape's athleticism. James flew around the pitch with the Quaffle, and practiced taking shots into the goal hoops. The morning sun gleamed off the tiny Snitch as Althea spotted it in the distance. Instinctively, she leaned forward and raced after the Snitch. The speed of the Nimbus 1500 and the cold air caused her eyes to water—blurring her vision—but not before she caught the Snitch in her hand—pink from the cold.

The three continued to practice until lunchtime. Althea—energized, but hungry—walked with James and Sirius to the Great Hall. As they were about to enter, Althea was surprised to see Professor Erlenmeyer—his face white with anger—his eyes narrowed on James and Sirius.

"How'd he get down?" James whispered as the three continued to walk through the Great Hall doorway.

"Potter! Black!" Erlenmeyer said as he stopped behind them.

The three sighed and turned to face Erlenmeyer.

"Bloody hell," Sirius murmured as he rolled his eyes at Erlenmeyer.

Erlenmeyer pointed his finger in Sirius's face as he spoke, "I know it was you—yes, you—who put my quarters and myself on the roof."

Sirius eyed Erlenmeyer with a distinct air of boredom.

"Sir, we were practicing on the Quidditch pitch all morning," James explained, reaching into his pocket. "See, we have a note."

James produced the letter from his pocket and Erlenmeyer roughly snatched it from his fingers. "How _convenient_," he muttered as he glared at James and Sirius. "McGonagall will hear about this."

Althea cleared her throat. "Professor, I was with them this entire morning," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. She gave Erlenmeyer her most innocent look. "They never left the Quidditch pitch."

"Miss Morrigan, I believe you," he said and Sirius groaned quietly. "However, it happened _before_ practice."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius's fist tighten. "Professor, please. Black and Potter are very clever, but I don't think that clever," she began and laughed to herself as Sirius and James made noises of protest. "A stunt like that would involve weeks of planning, weeks of planning they didn't have," she explained, and paused for a moment. She tapped her chin. "Have you considered the possibilities of house-elves?" she asked, casting a mischievous glance at James and Sirius.

Both boys smiled in appreciation.

"House-elves?" Erlenmeyer repeated and rubbed his chin. "No. What would house-elves have to do with my belongings on the Hogwarts roof?"

Althea smiled sweetly. _I can't believe this prat is falling for it_, she thought to herself as she batted her eyes.

"The house-elves probably decided that your quarters needed a bit of a cleaning," she explained with mocked thoughtfulness.

"Cleaning?"

"Sir, house-elves are _such_ eager creatures. They probably wanted to do such a good job that they Apparated your belongings to the roof. Unfortunately, they forgot to check your bed," she finished, proud that she did not burst into fits of laughter.

"Possibly," Erlenmeyer mumbled and rubbed his chin some more.

"I do believe that's what happened," Sirius agreed, with the same amount of feigned thoughtfulness. "I remember reading in the _Daily Prophet_, about a family that returned home and found that the house-elf had put all the belongings on the front lawn."

"Who could forget that story?" James chimed in and shook his head. "That poor family—lived in an area full of Muggles."

"It _had_ to have been the house-elves," Althea encouraged. "I think if you leave a note for them, it won't happen again," she said and smiled sweetly.

"Thank you, Miss Morrigan," he said and smiled. "I'll do just that."

"Good," she breathed.

"Good day," he said and nodded. "Potter…Black."

"_Sir_," the boys said in unison.

Erylenmeyer turned on his heel and walked away.

"Bloody brilliant," James laughed and patted Althea on the back. "House-elves!"

"I can't believe he fell for it," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm a terrible liar—house-elves, Apparating—how idiotic!"

"He isn't the most intelligent of men," Sirius remarked and ran his fingers through his hair. "Brilliant, though," he added and kissed her cheek.

"I suppose I have learned something since we started dating," she replied, smiling. "Anyway, I'm starving."

Althea walked ahead of Sirius and James, and sat across from Lily and Jane. Lily smiled as Althea reached for a roll.

"Why, aren't you in such a good mood?" Althea remarked and took a bite of a roll.

"Didn't you hear? The illustrious Tristan Mallory will be honoring us with his presence next weekend," she said sarcastically and took a sip of tea.

Althea rolled her eyes. Tristan Mallory was Jane's new obsession, tossing the disinherited Sirius to the outer margins. She met him over Christmas holiday in the south of France, and supposedly, he came from a prominent French Wizarding family. His father was head of Magical Law Enforcement in France, and Tristan was an Auror-in-training. The news of Tristan's arrival soothed Althea—soon Lily and Jane would know her relationship with Sirius extended beyond a new friendship. _The secrets will end_, she thought, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. _She doesn't care about Sirius anymore—ever since she discovered that he left his family and his mother subsequently disinherited him…. Many of the girls have done so, as well_, she thought, looking toward the Slytherin table. She saw Regulus smile smugly and wink at a Ravenclaw fifth-year girl. _No, they've all turned their attentions to Regulus_.

"Yes, next week is a Hogsmeade Weekend, isn't it?" Althea asked and smiled.

_Maybe next weekend would be the perfect time to tell them_, she thought as she looked down at her plate. _Oh, but how to tell them…before the Hogsmeade trip? During? After_? Althea smiled to herself. _They could happen upon us snogging_.

"But of course!" Jane replied, clapping her hands. "He wished to see a Quidditch match, but I advised him against it—it would've been frightfully boring and not his caliber—"

Althea laughed into her cup of pumpkin juice as Lily crossed her eyes.

"He'll be here for Hogsmeade," she continued and sighed happily. "I know it's a bit dull and childish, but he so wanted to see it…and to meet my friends."

"Oh, brilliant," Althea replied and took another sip of pumpkin juice. "I'd love to meet him."

Jane turned her eyes in the direction of Sirius, who was busy laughing and stuffing his mouth full of chicken. "I don't know what I ever saw in him," she murmured, frowning.

"His money," Althea replied and Lily kicked her shin.

"Tristan is going places," Jane said proudly, still looking at Sirius. "He's well-connected, and will—no doubt—advance quickly."

"Yes, you'll have your mansion, Jane," Lily remarked and sighed disapprovingly. "Anyway, Althea, how was…" she began and paused for a moment—an impish grin played across her lips, "_Quidditch practice_?"

Althea felt her face flush with warmth. _Why did Sirius have to enter our dormitory_, she thought, looking at Lily's forehead. _She probably wasn't asleep and heard our entire conversation_.

"We're ready for this afternoon, if that's what you mean," Althea answered and bit her lip.

Lily looked over at Sirius, who took a large gulp of pumpkin juice. "I hope," she said, shifting her gaze from Sirius to Althea, "that Black wasn't _dogging_ you at practice."

_Oh, bloody hell, she does know_, she thought as she nervously coughed into her glass. _Not only that, she knows that Sirius is an Animagus_! Althea placed her glass on the table and smiled nervously at Lily, who winked back.

"No, he was too occupied hitting Bludgers at Snape to bother me," she answered, placing a chicken leg on her plate.

"You know," Jane said a little louder, looking out of the corner of her eye at Sirius, "Tristan is very handsome, probably _more handsome than any boy here_."

Sirius had not heard Jane's remark—or did not care—and continued to stuff his mouth full of chicken as he spoke with Remus. Althea fought the urge to sigh as Jane remarked upon Tristan's physical attributes. _I reckon his money makes him all the more handsome_, she thought, lifting a chicken leg to her lips.

As Althea was about to take a bite of her chicken leg, Jane asked, "Althea, what do you know about the French National Quidditch Team?"

Althea frowned and placed the chicken leg on her plate. "They're terrible. Why?" she asked, and quickly picked up the chicken leg and took a bite.

"Tristan had an opportunity to play for them," she said dreamily. "He's a Chaser—an amazing Chaser."

"Would you shut up!" Peter squeaked to Jane.

Althea coughed and quickly gulped pumpkin juice. She had never heard Peter raise his voice. _Here, here Peter_, she thought as she looked at Jane. Jane's mouth was open—her mouth quivered and contorted, forming words, but no sound came forth.

"Nobody wants to hear about Tristan! When he comes, I won't be surprised if he breaks up with you!" Peter shouted and slammed his fist on the table. "All of breakfast and, now, lunch! I'm sick of it!"

Sirius stopped talking and looked with admiration at Peter.

"Fine," Jane said quietly, standing from the table.

Turning on her heel, Jane walked from the table and out the Great Hall doors. Lily turned her eyes to Althea.

"What?" Althea asked and shifted uncomfortably. "I have to eat for the game."

Lily narrowed her eyes and stood. "I'm going to find Jane," she said and turned on her heel as well.

Althea rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Peter," she said and took a bite of chicken.

Peter frowned. "I'm sorry."

"No, thanks. It was getting on my nerves," Althea replied, smiling.

Peter's frown softened.

"I was about to tell her, anyway."

Remus slid over in front of Althea. "I wish house-elves would clean our dormitory room."

Althea laughed. "What part did you play?" she asked, leaning over the table.

Remus sighed. "I checked for plausibility and loopholes. James and Sirius did all the work," he replied, smiling. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I loved it!" she replied with a large grin. "The image of him attempting to Apparate will stay with me forever."

Remus laughed quietly. "Yeah, they mentioned that. It's their mission to rid Hogwarts of him forever," he replied with a small, appreciative smile, and nodded toward Peter. "Peter helped, too."

"Yeah," Peter said happily. "I got the books from the Restricted Section in the library. The idiot actually signed off the paper to let me get them!" he explained and laughed shrilly.

Suddenly, Dumbledore's voice interrupted every conversation. Grimly, he stood overlooking the mass of students. Althea wondered what announcement Dumbledore had to make.

"It is with great sadness that I must report news I have received. The Quidditch match and the trip to Hogsmeade are cancelled. The Death Eaters have struck the village of Hogsmeade, murdering or torturing our fellow witches and wizards. I ask all of you to calmly return to your Houses and remain until it is safe."

It felt as if the blood had seeped away from her face and had pooled in her toes. Hogsmeade. It was the second attack in two months. Could they threaten Hogwarts? Was Hogwarts safe? Dumbledore's calm, but insistent voice, unnerved her. Why have them return to their Houses? Althea numbly stood with the rest of the students and walked toward the Great Hall door. As she walked up the stairs that led to Gryffindor Tower, Sirius grabbed her hand.

"Stay with me," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

Althea nodded. "Right." It was the first time he held her hand in public. "Everyone will know," she continued and nodded to their clasped hands.

"I don't care," he replied and squeezed her hand. "There've been attacks in Hogsmeade before…something's not right."

Althea entered through the portrait, and followed Sirius up to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. She sat on the edge of Sirius's bed with her hands in her lap. Sirius lay on his bed, reading a Defense Against the Dark Arts book he nicked from the Restricted Section. Remus and Peter quickly entertained themselves in a heated game of wizard chess. James sat next to the window, reading the latest edition of _Which Broomstick_, and periodically looked out the window for signs of Death Eaters.

"I think I'll get a book," Althea said, restless from nervousness.

"We have some here," Sirius replied, looking over his book. "You can read this one," he continued, holding out his book for her.

"No, no," she replied, holding up her hand. "I'll be right back…. Honest," she added and laughed quietly.

Althea walked the stairs to her dormitory room to find Jane alone, lying on her side with her knees to her chest. _Lily must be in the bath_, she thought as she rummaged through the bookcase. After a few minutes, Lily did not return, and Althea became worried. Althea walked over to the moping Jane—who had not uttered a word since Althea had entered—and sat down next to her.

Althea sighed. "I'm sorry for what Peter said," she said and rubbed Jane's back. "Tristan sounds amazing, though," she added and smiled thoughtfully.

Jane loudly blew her nose in her handkerchief. "He is," she sniffed, looking at Althea. "Hogsmeade will be so wonderful."

"Jane, there won't be a Hogsmeade trip," Althea said softly. "Dumbledore told us there was an attack."

"What? No Hogsmeade!" Jane squeaked and started to cry again. She threw herself back onto her bed. "What am I supposed to do? No Tristan!"

"Innocent people were murdered," she admonished, quickly removing her hand. "I think Tristan _will_ understand."

"Oh, Althea!" she squeaked and began to sob.

Althea stood and shook her head. "Have you seen Lily?"

Jane sat up. "NO!" she shouted and threw herself back onto her bed.

Panic coursed through Althea as her body started to shake. Althea ran to the bathroom and shouted Lily's name. No answer. She ran to the common room—deserted. Althea ran up the stairs to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. Her face white, she stood in the middle of the room, and painfully attempted to catch her breath.

"Althea! What? What's wrong?" Sirius asked, running to her side.

Althea took in a great breath and stared into Sirius's eyes. "Lily…she's not here."


	28. Hogwarts, February 1977 Part II

**Hogwarts, February 1977**

"Lily?" Sirius said, rubbing Althea's upper arms. "She has to be here."

Althea shook her head. "She's not. I looked. She left to find Jane, and Jane hasn't seen her," she said impatiently, and pulled away from Sirius. "I have to find her!"

Althea quickly turned and started for the door, but Sirius grabbed her arm.

"You're not leaving!"

With great strength, Althea furiously pulled her arm away from Sirius. "_I have to find her_!" she demanded, stubbornly looking into his eyes.

"_You're not leaving_!" he replied, looking into her eyes with the same stubbornness. "The four of us will find her while you stay here."

"What? No—"

Sirius sighed. "James—"

"What if this was Potter?" she asked, rising and falling on the balls of her feet. "She's my best friend. I'd do anything for her," she continued in earnest and furrowed her eyebrows. "You can't stop me."

Sirius frowned, his grey eyes dimming. "Let's go," he muttered, and pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. "She's on the third floor," he said and took Althea's hand.

"How do you know?"

Sirius waved his hand, brushing aside her question. He held his wand to the fireplace and tapped it against the mantle. Suddenly, the fire dissipated, revealing a false wall behind the fireplace. Althea raised an eyebrow that Sirius would know such a thing.

"Come on," he said, pointing to the false wall. "This is the fastest way."

Althea lowered her head and entered the false wall. The soot filled her lungs, causing her to cough. Pulling out her wand to light her way, Althea continued forward down a dark passageway.

"How will this take us to the third floor?" she asked, peering ahead of her.

"This way," he replied and pulled her hand to stop her. Sirius tapped his wand against the wall and another compartment opened. "It'll take us directly to the third floor," he explained as he entered the compartment.

Althea thrust her wand into the dark empty space. The floor was smooth, dipped sharply, and curved to the right. Althea stuffed her wand in her robe pocket, and slid down the cool slide. Darkness was all she could see as she slid faster down the slide. After what seemed about an eternity to an anxious Althea, she landed—disoriented—on the cold stone floor.

"All right?" he asked as helped her to her feet.

Althea nodded.

"She's down the corridor and to the right," he added, frowning. "She's not alone."

Althea's eyes grew wide. "Who's with her?"

Sirius placed his hands on Althea's shoulders. "Promise me," he said softly, stroking the side of her face, "that if anything happens, you'll get out."

"Sirius—"

"Just promise me," he said, cupping her face with his hands.

"Would you leave me?" she asked, looking steadfastly into his eyes.

Sirius smiled weakly. "No."

"There's my answer, then."

Sirius sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "It's some woman named Desdemona Lewis."

"She's not a student, is she?"

Sirius shook his head.

The nervousness in her stomach exploded throughout her body. Althea took a ragged breath and clenched her wand in her sweaty hand. _God, please let Lily be all right_, she thought as Sirius kissed her lips. _I can't lose her_.

"It's best if we stun her," he replied and Althea nodded in agreement. "It's clear on the other side of the portrait."

Sirius pushed on the back of the portrait, and it swung to the side. Before Althea stepped out of the portrait, Sirius stopped her. She looked over his shoulder and angrily tightened her grip around her wand. Lying in a crumpled heap was a second-year Ravenclaw. She pushed Sirius to the side and ran to the boy's lifeless body. She knelt down beside him, and stared sadly into the boy's open, glassy eyes. Her fingertips touched the side of his neck in search of a pulse—even a faint one.

"Come on," Sirius whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Althea mustered all of her strength to prevent herself from crying. "We have to find Lily," she said, looking at the boy's tie.

"Come on," he whispered again, easing her up.

Althea stood and slowly crept along the abandoned corridor. Suddenly, the hallway echoed with the loud, high-pitched cackling of a woman's laughter. Althea and Sirius instantly froze. Lily's screams pierced her ears.

"To hell with surprise!" Althea whispered and darted forward.

"No!" Sirius whispered forcefully and grabbed her arm. "We're almost there!"

Althea struggled against Sirius, furious that he would stop her from reaching Lily. _She's killing Lily_, she thought, growling and wrenching herself from Sirius.

"There might be more than one," he whispered as she struggled against him.

"She'll be dead!"

Althea broke free from Sirius and ran toward Lily's screams. She rounded the corner, and there upon the ground laid Lily—panting from the last curse. As the black-hooded figure advanced on Lily, enormous rage erupted in Althea's veins. She clenched her wand tighter—her knuckles white. Every ounce of her wanted to blast Desdemona with the Cruciatus Curse. Sirius was quickly by her side with his wand at the ready.

"When I say three, we stun her," Sirius said quietly. "One."

Althea saw Lily's eyes water as Desdemona pointed her wand at Lily.

"Two."

Althea's upper lip curved into a snarl.

"_INFLIGO_!" Althea roared, pointing her wand at Desdemona.

Surprised, Desdemona turned and received the blast of blue light directly in the chest. Althea smiled with fierce satisfaction as she watched Desdemona fly into the air and hit the wall behind her—creating a loud, dull _thud_.

"I said _stun_ her!"

Althea did not listen. She ran to Lily's side and knelt next to her.

"Oh Lily," she said, fighting back tears as she stroked the thick red hair from Lily's face. "Are you all right?"

Lily nodded. "I lost my wand—"

"Here," Sirius said, holding out Lily's wand.

Lily smiled as she looked upon Sirius. "Thank you," she said, taking her wand. "How'd you know I was here?"

"No time," he said and held out his hands for Lily. "We have to get out of here," he added as he helped Lily stand. "There could be more."

Suddenly, a jet of purple light soared past Sirius's head. His eyes widened as the suit of armor exploded.

"Go!" he demanded, pushing Althea away from the advancing Death Eater. Sirius quickly turned and engaged the Death Eater. "Get out of here!"

"It's three against one!" Althea yelled back, running toward Sirius and the Death Eater.

"Not so," another voice said from the shadows.

Althea turned and saw two hooded figures come into view. The one Death Eater pointed his wand at Althea, and she leapt out of the way—narrowly missing a red jet of light. The red jet erupted behind her and burnt a large whole in the tapestry. Lily was engaged in a fierce duel with the other Death Eater. Lily lit the Death Eater's hood on fire. Sirius continued to duel with another Death Eater, and he laughed when the Death Eater could not stop dancing.

"_Impedimenta_!" Althea yelled, pointing her wand at the advancing Death Eater.

The Death Eater somersaulted in the air, missing the charm.

"Bugger all!" she growled as the Death Eater landed and laughed.

"_Crucio_!" the Death Eater roared as he pointed his wand at Althea.

Althea quickly rolled away. The curse blasted a hole into the stone floor where Althea had been.

"_Protego_!" Althea shouted as the Death Eater immediately sent a jet of blue light toward her.

Althea scrambled to her feet only to duck again as a jet of green light narrowly missed her. The Death Eater laughed and taunted her poor dueling skills.

"Must be a Mudblood, can't hold your wand—"

"_CONFRINGO_!" she roared, fiercely thrusting her wand toward the laughing Death Eater. The ball of light erupted around the Death Eater, sending him backwards, somersaulting, through the air.

Althea nodded and rushed forward to help Lily.

"_CRUCIO_!"

It felt as if a sword had pierced Althea's back. She gasped, stopping in midstride, and fell to the ground—writhing and convulsing. Wide-eyed, she groped and pulled at smooth stone floor in a hopeless attempt to combat the intolerable agony. She couldn't scream—it was too painful to scream. A scorching metal blade peeled each layer of muscle away from her bones, and she had to look to remember that her body was intact. Suddenly, the excruciating pain had stopped. Her eyes blurred from tears, she slapped the floor before her in search of her wand.

"Stupid girl," the man laughed, from under his hood, as he advanced on Althea.

Panting, Althea struggled to stand.

"I'll let you get to your feet."

Althea growled and hurled a curse at him. The Death Eater deftly blocked the curse. He stepped forward—unconcerned with the new shouting and curses around them. Althea thrust her wand forward and shouted another curse, but the Death Eater was ready. She shouted another and then another, but each was blocked. He seemed to take pleasure in her futility. Althea cringed at the loud _bang!_ above her head as a stray curse blasted pieces of mortar from the masonry. The Death Eater pointed his wand toward Althea—a jet of silver light slammed into her chest, which caused her to lose her breath and her wand. She felt herself rushing backward through the air, and she winced as her back connected with the cool stone wall next to the suits of armor. Breathing heavily, she looked to her right and realized the Death Eater's target had been the large silver ax that was meant for her back. She quickly looked toward the fighting—Sirius, his eyes gleaming with excitement, was too consumed in his fight and Lily had her back turned toward Althea.

The Death Eater raised his wand. "Did you really think you could defeat a servant of the Dark Lord?"

Out of the periphery, Althea eyes focused on something—a mace—held by one of the suits of armor. Would it be possible to remove such a weapon? Wouldn't there be some sort of Sticking Charm? _Bloody hell, if this works_, she thought as she positioned herself to reach for the mace.

The Death Eater slowly began, "_Ava_—"

Althea quickly grasped the mace—a small relief as the mace broke free from the armor—and with a loud, guttural growl, she swung the heavy club at the Death Eater, who had briefly lowered his wand. In a swift movement, the mace grisly connected with the Death Eater's head. The awful, low, crunching sound echoed throughout the corridor. The Death Eater—unconscious—fell to his side and Althea let the mace slide from her hand, it clinking and rolling across the floor.

"Yes, yes I did," she sneered and kicked the unconscious Death Eater in his side.

Althea heard Sirius yell as she turned to help Lily, and realized she was high in the air. She was not flying, but she was hurling through the air. Althea attempted to brace herself for her fall as she forcefully landed on a staircase, and rolled and tumbled at least two flights below….

* * *

_What is that smell_, Althea thought as she sniffed the air—it was a pleasant scent and she smiled. _Lilacs—why do I smell lilacs_? Althea opened her eyes and looked to her left and right. Freshly cut lilacs surrounded her hospital bed. _Why am I in the hospital wing_, she wondered as she attempted to sit up. The pain of a broken left arm reminded Althea why she was in the hospital wing—the duel with the Death Eaters.

"Don't move!" Madam Pomfrey scolded as she hurriedly walked to the side of Althea's bed.

"What happened? Where is Lily? Where is Sirius?"

"Miss Evans is fine. She left three days ago," Madam Pomfrey replied, fixing Althea's pillow.

"Three days ago! How long have I been here?"

"A week."

"A week! Are you sure?"

"Of course, I am sure," answered Madam Pomfrey, frowning. "I expect Mr. Black will be here soon—class is over for the day."

Althea sighed happily. "So, Sirius is all right?" she asked and attempted to stretch her legs. Sharp pain surged up her lower left leg, and she realized that it was broken.

"Of course, he is," Madam Pomfrey replied as she made her way around the beds. "I have to kick him out when visiting hours are over. I found him after hours the other day—asleep at your bedside."

Althea smiled happily despite Madam Pomfrey's disapproving expression.

"Oh, look who it is," Madam Pomfrey said, motioning at the door.

Althea's stomach leapt at the sight of Sirius, but she quickly frowned. _I must look awful_, she thought, smoothing her hair. Sirius didn't seem to mind as he, grinning, hastened his steps toward her bed. Althea gently bit her bottom lip—slightly dry—as Sirius stood before her. Despite his happiness—and relief—his eyes betrayed an emotion she rarely saw…fear.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he sat at her bedside.

Althea frowned as she examined herself. "I have a broken arm and leg," she said and raised her good hand to her head. "I must have hit my head, too," she added as she felt a bandage around her head.

Sirius lowered his head and folded his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Why? You didn't do this," she replied as she played with a string from the blanket.

Sirius raised his head and sadly looked into her eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair—revealing a healing gash at his temple. "He was about to kill you," he said and swallowed.

"You did this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius nodded. "I cursed you out of the way," he finished and took her good hand in his. "A bit overzealous, I have to admit."

Althea nodded and squeezed his hand. "What is this—the second or third time you've saved my life?" she teased, forcing a small smile. "This is a bit habit forming, isn't it?" she quipped and winked. "What happened anyway?"

Sirius frowned and leaned closer to Althea. "Dumbledore hasn't said much."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," he replied, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, "Remus and Peter got him. He arrived with some Aurors a little after you fell down the stairs."

"So, the Death Eaters are captured, then?" she asked, leaning closer to Sirius. "We must be in trouble," she continued. "We should have let the Aurors handle it."

"Never," he replied quickly as he shook his head. "No, Dumbledore gave us House points for it. Twenty-five points for Remus, twenty-five for Peter, fifty for Lily, and fifty for you, fifty for me, and fifty for James."

"James?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "James wasn't there."

Sirius laughed quietly. "James saved Evans's life."

Althea's eyes and mouth widened—first out of shock and then transforming to humor. "Lily must be beside herself," she murmured, as she placed her good hand on the side of her face. "How did it happen?"

"The Death Eater was in the middle of the Killing Curse, James knocked him to the ground, and punched him in the face," Sirius explained, grinning. "Broke the bastard's jaw."

"He must be pleased with himself," she muttered, suppressing a smile.

"No, actually. The two avoid each other at all costs."

Althea giggled quietly.

"It's true—they won't look at each other."

Althea sighed and looked around at her flowers. "Are these all from you?" she asked, taking a bouquet of lilacs from a vase and sniffing them. "They're lovely."

Sirius playfully frowned. "No, I think you have a secret admirer."

"Well," she began and placed the bouquet back in the vase, "I'll have to find out who it is so I can give him a kiss."

Sirius grinned as Althea leaned forward to kiss him.

"Althea, you're awake!"

Althea flushed and awkwardly leaned away from Sirius at the sound of Lily's voice. Sirius cleared his throat and smoothed the hair from his face.

"Lily, you're all right," she said awkwardly, but cheerfully.

Lily walked to Althea's bedside and threw her arms around Althea, holding her tightly to her. "I wanted to thank you," she said softly, stroking Althea's back. "You risked your life for me."

"Of course, I would," she smiled. "I would do anything for you, you know that…I love you."

Lily pulled away from Althea and squeezed Althea's uninjured hand. "Thank you."

Althea nodded.

Lily sat in a chair next to Sirius, and—unexpectedly—she began to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" Althea asked, bemused.

"The both of you," she answered, giggling. "You don't have to hide it anymore. I know."

Althea exchanged a guilty glance with Sirius. "I suppose you knew after the incident in the corridor," she replied and bit her bottom lip.

Lily sighed contentedly. "No, at the End of Term Feast I suspected something," she explained and crossed her legs. "It wasn't until I spied Althea charming away love bites in September that I knew for sure."

Althea felt her cheeks flush with color and Lily laughed.

"How could I not know, or anyone else? The way you look at each other—like you two will jump into a broom cupboard at any minute."

Sirius cleared his throat. "Althea is a respectable lady, Evans. No broom cupboard."

Lily winked at Althea. "Indeed."

Althea frowned. "Does Jane know?"

Lily sighed and stroked her hair behind her ear—revealing bruises on her neck and chin. "She knows, but she doesn't care. Too obsessed with Tristan to care," she replied and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Althea timidly ran her hand along her blanket. "So, you're all right with this, then?" she asked, reluctantly looking into Lily's eyes. "Sirius and me?"

Lily turned toward Sirius. "You risked your life for me," she said, staring into his eyes. "You risked your life for Althea."

"I would—"

"Althea is my best friend. If you hurt her and break her heart…I'll hurt you."

"I would never hurt Althea," he defended, frowning slightly. "I love her."

Althea quietly caught her breath. Sirius Black loved her. The thought caused her heart to quicken in her chest. She could have died without him ever uttering those words and how she wanted to say the same, but Lily was present.

"Right," Lily sighed, and turned toward Althea. "That's all I wanted to hear."

* * *

Although Althea was exceedingly tired, she enjoyed the company of Lily and Sirius. Before dinner, Jane and Althea's Quidditch teammates had visited, and left her with cards and candy. Sirius's friends also visited Althea, but at the end of visitation, Madam Pomfrey promptly kicked them out; however, not after eating many of Althea's Chocolate Frogs and other sweets. After dinner, McGonagall and Dumbledore visited with Althea, and Dumbledore informed her that her grandmother would visit her the next day. Dumbledore reassured Althea that her secret was safe from her grandmother. It would be a Quidditch injury and not a duel with a Death Eater and Sirius Black's rescue that caused Althea's present predicament.

In the early morning, Althea awoke—the moonlight creating various awkward and sinister shadows in the hospital wing. Sleepily, Althea looked down at her side, and jolted upright—bumping her knee against something that felt like a head.

"Ow!" Sirius grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his forehead as the Invisibility Cloak fell behind him onto the chair.

"I'm sorry," Althea whispered, touching and examining his forehead. "Your hand was out of the Invisibility Cloak, " she said, narrowing her eyes and pointing to the cloak behind him. "Where did you get that?"

"It's James's cloak. I'm borrowing it," he answered and yawned. "Had to after Madam Pomfrey found me here after hours."

"You've been here every night?"

Sirius nodded sleepily.

"You haven't had a good sleep in a week. Please, go to your bed and sleep," she said, resting her hand on top of his. "I'll be all right."

Sirius shook his head. "I don't mind," he replied, smiling.

"But my Gran will arrive later. She won't like that you're at my bedside."

"Let her," he snorted and scratched the back of his head. "She'll find out about us eventually," he added, leaning back in his chair and mischievous grin playing across his lips. "I think I'll tell her this morning. If you move over, and I climb up there—she'll be real surprised," he finished, grinning.

Althea frowned—purposefully ignoring Sirius's teasing. "If you're not leaving, I have a question. How did you know where Lily was?" she asked, smoothing out her blanket.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "It's a map—shows where everyone is," he answered and rested his feet atop the end of her bed.

"So, this map, it shows everything?"

Sirius nodded.

"An Invisibility Cloak and a map…I'm never taking another bath again!"

Sirius laughed sheepishly—she could see his face pink in the moonlight.

"This isn't funny," she murmured, shaking her head, "spying on girls in the bath—"

Sirius sat up and pointed his finger at her. "Now, don't jump to conclusions. The map isn't used for that sort of thing," he explained defensively, his lips fighting a smile.

"Then what is it used for?" she asked, suppressing a small smile.

The thought of Sirius appreciating her naked form caused the back of her neck to flush with warmth.

"To keep us out of trouble," he whispered. "We use it for purposes of pure mischief."

"I should have known—your detentions this year have been cut by a third."

Sirius winked. "Come on," he replied, removing his feet from her bed, "let's get some sleep."

Sirius sniffed as he shifted, attempting a comfortable position in a very uncomfortable-looking chair. Althea felt very guilty as she lay in her very comfortable bed.

"Would you like to come up here?" she asked, and felt her face and neck start to warm.

Sirius looked slightly stunned. "With you?"

Althea nodded shyly. "There's plenty of room for the both of us to sleep here," she explained, her fingers tracing circles against the side of the mattress. "You look so uncomfortable…. Please, I'd feel awful if you weren't rested."

Sirius frowned and seemed to be debating the offer. "I'd really feel awful if I injured your leg anymore…seeing as it's my fault you're injured."

"You wouldn't," she replied and grimaced as she slid her leg away from him. "There, even more room now."

Sirius shook his head. "You're arm," he said, pointing to her wrapped arm, "I could crush it."

"Oh."

He looked at her thoughtfully and smiled tenderly. "Thank you, though," he said and patted the chair. "I'm comfortable…really."

"Sirius, please."

"_Goodnight_, Althea," he said, resting his head against the Invisibility Cloak. "Sleep well."

"You too," she sighed and closed her eyes.

Although she was tired, Althea could not sleep. She opened her weary eyes, allowing them to readjust to the darkness of the room, and leisurely let them fall on Sirius as he slept—his lips were slightly parted, and ever so often, his mouth and nose would twitch. _I would be very uncomfortable_, she thought, frowning as his nose twitched. _I really don't understand why he wouldn't_. Althea turned her head to look at the strange, long shadows cast across the high ceiling. _I really don't understand him at all_. It was simpler when she hated him. The nature of his character came so easily to her—arrogant, reckless, and often cruel. Now, it was not so easy, and she wondered if anyone—even his friends—truly knew him. Althea shook her head—James was the only person that knew Sirius. He calmed him, kept him happy, and steered him from potentially explosive situations—and even then, James struggled.

It was difficult after Sirius was disinherited. Slytherins, emboldened by Sirius's fall from decent Wizarding society, would not hesitate to utter, 'blood traitor.' Even Slughorn, who once lamented at the loss of the Black brothers set, seemed slightly horrified at such a move and obviously felt relief that such a brazen rebel was not sorted into Slytherin House. To run away from one's home was unheard of, and that Sirius seemed proud of it (Althea truly believed such outward bravado was an act) only added to the shock and his dangerous reputation.

_Sirius only lets me see little pieces_, she thought and sighed deeply. _What doesn't he want me to see_? It unnerved Althea to realize that there was more to Sirius than previously thought, and that he did not allow her to know those things so central to him. What she did know, however, was very important: never mention his family, never utter a bad word about James, and always be his Althea. It was very simple not to mention his family and not to utter a bad word about James, but the last—to be _his_ Althea—was very difficult. She was unsure of what it meant.


	29. Hogwarts, February 1994

**Hogwarts, February 1994**

_According to Dr. Henry Harley, there was no greater Muggle invention than the Muggle automobile. The societal, environmental, and economic implications of the automobile were far reaching from the beginning of its invention: the automobile allowed Muggles to travel without restriction and to live where they wanted. The automobile expanded Muggle geographic borders; Muggles were no longer relegated to live near streams or other large bodies of water_….

Althea placed the thick parchment on her desk, removed her reading glasses, and soothingly rubbed her temples with her fingertips. The introductory paragraph of Hermione Granger's essay had already caused her to develop a slight headache. _I asked for a foot of parchment, and she's given me a master's thesis on the implications of the Muggle automobile_. Althea picked up the parchment and flipped to the last page. _She has even included a bibliography. Hermione, your mind belongs in a university, not some wizard school_, she thought, closing her eyes and leaning back in her chair.

"Althea, are you all right?" Remus asked, gently shaking her shoulder.

Althea gingerly rubbed her stiff neck, and realized she must have dozed off. _One bloody essay read_, she thought, blinking.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I'm all right," she replied, sitting up. "What time is it?"

"Past dinner," he replied, leaning against her desk. "I'll have the house-elves prepare something if you'd like."

Althea shook her head. "No, that's all right. I was marking essays," she replied, pointing to Hermione's thick parchment. "Unfortunately, I fell asleep before I could finish."

Remus picked up the thick parchment, and scanned its contents. "Ah, Hermione's work," he said, placing the parchment on her desk before her. "Very clever girl."

"I almost want to tell her to teach the class," she replied, eyeing the thick parchment. "Maybe I'll resign when she leaves."

Remus frowned, pulling a chair next to her. "You were never meant to be a schoolteacher."

"Of course, I wasn't," she agreed, stretching her legs before her. "I wanted to be a Midwife and Healer, but things happened," she added and sighed bitterly. "Unfortunately, I was rudely reminded of that last week."

Remus nodded. "I still don't know how you kept yourself so composed," he said as Althea stood. "I would have torn out his throat."

_I would've let you, she thought, but I let him escape_. Althea had not told Remus of her entire encounter with Sirius. Nor would she ever tell him.

"I don't think I have it in me to kill," she said, walking to one of the large windows. "Anymore, at least."

She rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes. She saw Sirius's gaunt face illuminated by the tip of her wand, bound, at her mercy. There was a time when she could kill—quite easily in fact. She had attempted to kill Sirius as she passed his cell when they brought her there. She attempted to kill him on other occasions, as well. In her hellish cell, hours would pass as she imagined her thin hands squeezing the last breath from his throat. She reasoned that if she killed him all would return to normal. He was a festering wound, a parasite that needed removal from the world. She was younger, stupid, and full of rage, self-loathing, and self-pity. It took Azkaban to break her.

"I think he's more miserable alive," she said, stroking the cold windowpane with her index finger. "Always like him though, to escape that way—so pompous. 'Like Sirius rising from Oceanus, brilliant and beautiful but full of menace for the flocks,'" she mused, pressing her thumb hard against the windowpane to leave a thumbprint.

Remus sat behind her on the window ledge. "I don't understand why he didn't kill you," he wondered, resting the back of his head against the windowpane.

"What is there to understand?" she asked, looking down at Remus. "He could never kill me," she added, restoring her gaze to outside her window. "I realized that after much thought this morning."

"What about the Death Eaters after James and Lily died?"

"He could never kill me himself, he sent them…so I've been told," she explained, sitting on the window ledge next to him. "What we should be asking is _why_ he didn't kill Ron Weasley and the rest of the dormitory?"

Remus frowned. "He screamed though—alerted the boys—and he wasn't the target."

It was Althea's turn to frown. "Do you think it would matter to a man who killed twelve Muggles and Peter? Not to mention handing his best friend and mine to Voldemort?" she asked aloud and ran her fingers through her hair. "He never made much sense, did he?"

Remus shook his head. "No, he didn't," he replied, turning his head toward Althea. "I don't believe he's mad though."

"Neither do I," she replied, resting her temple against the windowpane. "How did he survive?"

"How did you?"

"I didn't," she answered, lifting the side of her face from the windowpane, "I wanted to escape and the only way was through death." Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "I never told you much about my time there, have I?"

"No. We've avoided the subject repeatedly."

"I don't think anyone talks willingly," she replied and took a deep breath. "This is very strange—I will never understand it—how good Sirius was to me."

Remus's face paled as he looked at Althea. "Good?"

Althea nodded. "Good," she repeated. "I told you it was very strange."

"How?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "You have to be mistaken."

"I'm not, I swear," she replied in earnest, placing a hand over her breast. "Once, when the dementors were hungry—it happened when I first arrived—he told me not to think," she continued and Remus's eyebrows slightly lifted from surprise. "He told me not to think or they'd take my soul…. What sort of Dark Wizard would help me?" she explained and shook her head. "Briefly, I thought he knew it was me—"

"He couldn't have," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I saw the photographs of you, I didn't recognize you—I didn't recognize you in Alexandria at first…. When you were Derry, you were a different person."

"An evil person," she replied, frowning. "I killed people like him. I can't even begin to count the times I attempted to kill him from my cell, and still, when the dementors came…" she paused, taking a shaky breath, "he would tell me not to think."

"He was very coherent, then?"

Althea nodded slowly. "Very—except when he went into rages or talked in his sleep. Other times he went quiet—that usually happened after the rages," she explained and bit her lip at the awkward silence.

"Did he ever tell you why?"

Althea shook her head. "I would've told you if I knew," she said and sighed. "God, I tried, too."

She furrowed her eyebrows in thought. How did Sirius survive? _Maybe the darkness consumed him and helped him to survive_, she thought, stroking a loose curl behind her ear. _It doesn't explain how he helped me, though. If he were truly Dark, wouldn't he have wanted me to have my soul taken from me_? Althea sighed and stretched her legs out before her. _Or, he could have enjoyed torturing me…I was his only human interaction_.

"You didn't tell Dumbledore everything?"

Althea shook her head slowly. "He told me that he loved me."

Remus paled. "That he loved you?"

Althea nodded. "Remus, I heard him screaming for me that night I was tortured," she said, staring at the tips of her indigo shoes. "I know what he did now—don't argue—he traded my life for theirs. When he thought it too late—"

"Althea," Remus said, taking her hand, "it doesn't make sense."

"None of it made sense," she said and squeezed his hand. "I've spent over twelve years attempting to sort it out. How am I to live my life while he's alive? I've tried—I've tried to move on, to date—bloody hell, I was engaged—but, I live in fear of any man discovering that I loved him."

"Althea—"

"It's true," she said, taking her hand from him. "Imagine the questions it would bring. Why didn't I see that he was Dark? How could I have not known just how evil he was? How could I have been so stupid, so weak? You should've seen the horrified faces at St. Mungo's when they determined I wasn't under the Imperius Curse, but that I actually did love him."

Remus was silent.

"Muggles are no better," she said, frowning slightly. "At least some Muggle women might find the fact you transform into a blood-thirsty beast once a month a little romantic or enticing, but I tell a Muggle man that I'm a witch and he's out the door."

"Are you sure they're not frightened of Gran?"

Althea let out a bitter laugh. "The old woman approves of anyone that isn't Sirius," she said and nudged Remus. "You know that."

"How could I forget?" he teased and stuck out his tongue. "Even a werewolf would do."

"Let's not start—"

Remus shrugged slightly. "There aren't many attractive female werewolves, Althea," he said with a faint smirk.

Althea sighed. "He was very powerful, wasn't he?"

"Frighteningly powerful," he murmured, rubbing his chin.

"I never knew just how much, I guess," she remarked, folding her arms. "What did he do?"

"Althea, are you sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why relive—"

"Yes, of course."

"I don't want to upset you."

"I reckon I couldn't get anymore upset."

Remus inhaled a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Get on with it."

"Right," he murmured and smoothed the hair away from his face. "Dumbledore used him for the most dangerous of missions—Sirius wouldn't have had it any other way, honestly. He did use James, but that was before Harry was born," explained, looking into her eyes. "So, you see where this is leading—"

"You're saying that my pregnancy caused his change?" she asked—slightly raising her voice—her eyes narrowing.

"Oh no, no," he replied quickly, vigorously shaking his head. "When you became pregnant, Dumbledore thought it would be best if Sirius took the less dangerous missions. They had an awful row—well, it was only Sirius—but Dumbledore relented. That night, on a mission…he blew up a Death Eater."

"He _what_?" she asked—wide-eyed—leaning forward.

"Blew him up—like a Muggle landmine or grenade," he replied, an odd shiver crossed his face.

"Was it in self-defense?"

"No," he answered quietly, and Althea covered her mouth from shock and disgust. "I was horrified," he continued, rubbing his hands together. "He walked away as if it were nothing. He made me swear not to tell anyone, and stupidly, I didn't," he finished, looking at his hands—his knuckles turning white.

Althea placed her hand atop his and soothingly stroked his clenched hands. "How did he—you know—blow up the Death Eater?"

"A curse," he answered, slipping his slightly sweaty hand in hers. "I asked him where he learned it, but he refused to say…. It was _dark_, Althea," he added, sadly looking into her eyes.

"He probably learned it from his family."

_One doesn't live in the Black family house without learning something_, she thought, remembering certain pieces of information Sirius had told her. She remembered the library he told her about—the library filled with dark items and dark books. She also remembered the hidden compartments and secret rooms throughout the Black family house that Sirius discovered while his parents were away—secret rooms and compartments that housed—no doubt—more dark items.

"I don't think he learned it from his family," he replied, letting go of her hand. "I later discovered that Death Eater was attempting to leave Voldemort's service. It wasn't coincidence."

"Bloody hell," she murmured, shaking her head, and small, expression of worry developed across her face. "Do you—do you think he could still do that?"

Remus sighed heavily and rubbed his chin. "If he had a wand, possibly."

"I can't believe I had a child with him," she said, resting her hand upon her abdomen.

"Prudence is a good girl—"

"How can she be?" she asked, absently massaging her stomach. "With both parents as murderers?"

"He killed because he could."

"And that is supposed to make me feel better?" she remarked and laughed mirthlessly. "I killed out of some warped sense of self-preservation."

"You weren't in your right mind," he began and looked to his shoes, "and I should've taken you with me—"

"No," she replied forcefully, resting her hand on his forearm. "I needed to go…. Really, look where you found me—"

"You still owe me fifty Galleons," he interrupted, smiling hollowly.

"Right, I'll pay you later," she remarked and laughed uneasily. "Have you ever returned?"

"There?" he asked and shook his head. "No, after you, I was mortified."

"I've evoked many feelings in men, but never mortification," she replied, eyeing Remus with amusement. "I believe you're the first."

"I should've taken you with me after that…. I wasn't much of a friend at that time," he replied as he smoothed the hair from his face. "I didn't want friends."

"You were there for me in Alexandria," she replied, sliding closer to him. "I was so abusive to you though."

"I didn't put up with it—"

"I remember," she interrupted, resting the side of her face against his shoulder. She smiled as Remus placed his arm around her waist. "It was after I insulted—"

"Insulted is a kind word for what you did. More like violent, emotional wounding."

"Right, 'violent, emotional wounding,'" she murmured, taking his other hand in hers. "Anyway, you looked at me, and said—I'll never forget—'I'm done. To hell with Gran and to hell with you.' Then you walked out. God, everything changed for me then."

"I was very firm in my decision, as you can see," he replied, holding her tightly to him.

"You didn't speak to me for over a year," she reminded, playing with his fingers. "I wanted to prove myself to you…that you shouldn't have given up on me."

"You are a different person…_I'm_ a different person," he explained and kissed the top of her head. "No matter what you think, I never gave up on you," he whispered, turning her face to his.

Althea smiled and he tweaked her nose.

"Oh, I have something," he added, reaching into his robe pocket. He pulled out a worn piece of parchment, and handed it to her.

Althea quizzically stared at the worn, folded parchment. "What's this?" she asked as she unfolded it. "It's a blank piece of parchment, Remus. Why did you give me a blank piece of parchment?"

"You haven't seen this before?" he asked in amazement, and started to laugh. "Tap it with your wand and say 'Professor Althea Morrigan,'" he explained, smiling.

With a raised eyebrow, Althea tapped the parchment and said her name. Suddenly, writing appeared before her eyes. Althea covered her mouth in shock and laughter as she read the parchment:

_Mr. Prongs wonders in astonishment _

_why Hogwarts would hire a deviant like Morrigan._

_Mr. Wormtail apologizes that _

_Morrigan must work with a slimy git like Snape._

_Mr. Moony believes Morrigan_

_ must have the patience of an angel to work with an idiot like Snape._

_Mr. Padfoot adds that _

_he has been a very naughty boy and deserves detention…_

_he'll bring the wine._

"Do you know what it is now?" he asked, taking the parchment from her.

"I thought Filch confiscated it," she remembered, staring at the map in his hands. "Then, when you went to look for it, it was gone."

"It was," he began and folded the map, "Harry had it."

Althea's eyes widened from surprise. "Harry had it?" she gasped, slamming the palm of her hand on the window ledge. "How'd he get that?"

"I'm not sure, but Snape called me into his office about it. He thought Harry had gotten the map from me—"

"But he was the one that got Filch to confiscate it," she interrupted and rested her head against the windowpane.

"I know," he sighed, placing the map into his robe pocket. "Harry's used it to get to Hogsmeade."

Althea's heart stopped briefly as she lifted her head from the windowpane. "Hogsmeade? That stupid boy."

"He's like his father," Remus sighed, and Althea noticed a small, sad smile forming across his face. "I did scold him on it though—made him feel guilty, I think."

Althea smiled. "Let's hope guilt works, and the part that's like Lily takes over until Sirius is captured," she said and patted Remus's knee.

* * *

"Like Sirius rising from Oceanus, brilliant and beautiful but full of menace for the flocks…"

Excerpt from _Argonautica_


	30. Hogwarts, May 1977

**Hogwarts, May 1977**

"In three years, you'll be a Healer," Lily said and shook her head. "Amazing."

Althea closed the Foreign Relief Healer Program pamphlet, and wistfully looked at the cover of the happy witch and wizard standing underneath a palm tree. Her father was correct; magic had a profession comparable to Muggle medicine—the Healing Arts. She was not sure exactly what area of the Healing Arts she would enjoy specializing in, but she did know that in June, she would have her first interview to prepare her to begin the process of Healer Training after finishing her seventh-year.

"I still have seventh-year," she replied, frowning, "and N.E.W.T.s."

Lily smiled, resting her hand on Althea's forearm. "You'll pass them without any trouble," she said and squeezed Althea's forearm.

"Right," she forced herself to agree, tapping the pamphlet against the table. She was happy someone had confidence in her. She looked to Lily and raised an eyebrow. "You haven't taken Slughorn up on his offer, have you?" she asked, trying to sound casual and hiding her concern, but failing miserably.

Lily removed her hand from Althea's arm and folded her arms. "Of course, I haven't," she replied and rolled her eyes. "I'd like to stay out of his web of former students."

"Good…Sirius can't stand him. You've heard him, 'I wanted the set, but one will do,'" she said, looking at Lily. "It's the same way my Gran talks about that bloody antique chair she acquired over Christmas holiday. 'I would have preferred both, but the second chair was horribly damaged,'" she continued in her best impersonation of Gran.

"I've heard him," she muttered and giggled. "Spot on, by they way, but you forgot the 'Althea Rosemary.'"

Althea smiled. "Amazingly, her thoughts on the chair didn't turn into a lecture," she remarked and winked. She looked at Lily thoughtfully before she continued, "It's such an insult to you, though. You're the smartest witch in our year—you don't need connections."

Lily blushed. "Thank you, but you're smart as well," she replied with a small smile. "You have to be—to even attempt the Healing Arts."

Althea laughed quietly. "Right, I still have trouble casting spells without saying them…unlike you."

"You can't concentrate when Black's round," she teased matter-of-factly and winked. "Oh, look who has arrived," she laughed, "and she's not late today."

Althea looked toward the doorway to the classroom and shook her head. _How did Jane pass her Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L? She is the girl afraid of hinkypunks and all things remotely Dark. Erlenmeyer must've been very lenient_, she thought as she spotted an owl feather in Jane's glossy, blonde hair. _Owling Tristan again_. Jane sighed happily, gliding her fingers along the desks as she stepped forward. I have to admit, they are very cute together. He is the sort of man I'd want her to be with…the sort of man that would make her happy. Tristan had a patient quality that none of the boys she knew could muster, and the pure affection he put forth toward Jane was genuine. He doted upon Jane and did, however, indulge her more materialistic whims. Jane removed an owl feather from her hair, frowned at it as it flitted to the floor, and sat in front of Lily.

Jane pulled a face as she looked at the pamphlet in Althea's hand. "You're still doing that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "All the dirt and heat?"

"Of course, I am," Althea lied and placed the pamphlet in her bag. "I'll travel and help people. What could be better than that?"

"Living in a large house and married to a rich wizard?" Jane scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'd choose _that_ over living in hut, dating a poor wizard."

Althea's lips tightened. When Jane discovered the news that Sirius left home and his mother disowned him, she directed her obsessive focus to Tristan. Unlike Sirius, who barely noticed Jane's advances, Tristan eagerly welcomed them. _He was good enough when he had loads of Galleons_, she thought, scuffing the floor with her shoe.

"Well, not everyone sets high priorities like you, Jane," Althea remarked sardonically as Lily frowned. "Regulus Black doesn't have a girlfriend."

Jane wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. "He's a Slytherin," she replied, folding her arms. "Anyway, I'm scared of his mother."

"You have nothing to be afraid of," Althea remarked with a smile, "you're a pure-blooded witch from a wealthy family."

"Unlike our Althea," Lily chimed in, "the Muckblooded, greedy whore."

"_Titled_, Muckblooded, greedy whore that is out to destroy the Wizarding world by seducing every pure-blooded, young wizard from a noble and ancient family," Althea corrected, "or so I've been told."

"'_Noble_ and ancient,'" Lily repeated, rolling her eyes, and laughed. "You forgot our goal of producing inferior, half-blooded children."

"I didn't forget about our _army_," Althea teased in whisper—looking over her shoulder. "I thought we never spoke openly of that directive."

"I don't understand how you both could joke about such a thing, " Jane remarked, frowning.

"We have to, or we'd go mad," Lily replied, shrugging her shoulders. "They do want to kill us."

"Have you polished your trophy for 'Services to the School' lately?" Althea teased and winked.

"No," Lily sighed, "I only polish it when a certain student's round. I enjoy watching the vein throbbing in her forehead."

"It's an enormous vein, too," Althea replied, smiling wickedly. "I do prefer her eye twitch though."

"As do I," Lily laughed, but suddenly frowned when she heard laughing from the hallway. "They're early today."

Althea immediately turned to see James holding his side, laughing as he leaned against the doorway. Sirius, laughing loudly as well, clapped James on the shoulder, and his other hand clutched a rolled up newspaper.

"Oh, Moony," James breathed, resting the back of his head against the doorframe, and with great amusement, looked at Remus, "you're brilliant!"

"I'm telling you," Remus began laughingly, "I discovered it when researching the yeti essay. Padfoot, let him read it, will you?"

"Yeah…yeah," Sirius breathed, thrusting the rolled up newspaper at James's chest. "Puffskeins—an allergic reaction to Puffskeins. The poor bloke!"

"What d'you mean?" Remus laughed, shaking his head. "It was _her_!"

Althea raised an eyebrow as the four boys laughed loudly. Peter noticed Althea was looking at the boys with great interest and he nudged Sirius. Sirius, somewhat annoyed at Peter's intrusion, looked away from Peter to Althea, and immediately straightened himself. He elbowed James and nodded for him to look in Althea's direction. James immediately straightened and messed the back of his hair. Althea smiled as Sirius, his eyes locked with hers, confidently walked up the center aisle and sat behind her.

"Good morning, Evans," James said cheerfully, leaning forward.

"Morning," Lily muttered, scooting her chair forward.

"Good morning," Sirius said happily, placing his book and parchment onto the table.

"Morning," Althea said quietly, smiling.

Pleased with himself at Althea's response, Sirius sighed contentedly as he tossed his quill onto the table. "D'you reckon this will be the day?" he asked hopefully, casually tilting his chair onto its back legs.

_He really wants Erlenmeyer gone_, Althea thought as Sirius winked at her. Althea smiled and felt the apples of her cheeks warm. Sirius grinned as he leaned back, almost to the point of the chair sliding out from underneath him, but still maintaining control. Sirius was not the only student that wanted Erlenmeyer gone. All of the students were tired of his caustic remarks, and according to James and Sirius, his sheer ignorance at the subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Could Erlenmeyer break the curse that plagued Defense Against the Dark Arts professors since their first-years? Althea, as well as the other students, prayed he did not.

"God, I hope so," muttered James, messing his hair, "the wanker…. How many days has it been?"

"Too many," Lily sighed sadly.

Althea quickly turned, covering her mouth as she giggled at the wide-eyed Lily. Lily's quill fell from her hands onto her parchment, and she slowly sank in her seat—on her face, a mortified expression. Althea's eyes glanced at James—he leaning forward in his chair—his hazel eyes registering eagerness and shock as Sirius laughed loudly next to him. It was the second time that week Lily had answered a question posed by James. Sympathizing with Lily, Althea cast Sirius a sharp look, but he disregarded her warning by rolling his eyes and laughing louder.

"I'm sorry," Althea murmured guiltily, cringing at Lily's visibly pink face. She turned to look at Sirius and mouthed, "Come off it," but Sirius continued laughing.

"He's awful to Althea," Lily explained, looking at her parchment. "That's why I want him gone."

"She's dating Black, that's why," Martha said from the chair in front of Althea.

With a loud _crack_, Sirius's chair legs landed against the floor and Althea jumped. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked heatedly; she heard him stand.

_Please, don't do anything stupid, Sirius_, she thought, wincing. _You already have detention for the next two Saturdays_. Martha was right; Erlenmeyer's sycophantic behavior toward her had ended when, in February, the entire Hogwarts student body discovered the relationship between Sirius and Althea (of course, a significant portion of the student body had known since November—at least in rumor—of an incident in the Owlery involving, Mrs. Norris, a box to Ecuador, and a horrified Filch). With Lily's acceptance and Jane's indifference, the couple began to show affection in public; although, the idea of possibly being caught was so enticing still, they refrained from most outwardly public displays of affection. However, last Wednesday morning, as they walked to Potions, Sirius pulled her aside and kissed her in an empty corridor. Erlenmeyer caught them and promptly gave Sirius a Saturday detention, which produced enormous laughter from Sirius—it filling and echoing throughout the hall. Enraged at Sirius's defiance, Erlenmeyer gave him a second Saturday detention. It angered Althea, but Sirius told her not worry—Erlenmeyer would forget about the detentions (for Sirius believed him to be a great absentminded fool).

Martha turned in her chair and thoughtfully looked from Sirius to Althea. Althea's eyes narrowed, coaxing Martha from saying something potentially explosive. Martha agreed with her eyes.

"He's a enormous idiot," Martha answered and Althea slightly nodded with approval. "He thought Mary called him a 'ignorant berk' the other day," she continued, and motioned with her head toward Mary; Mary nodded with great exaggeration. "She had detention that night."

Althea—holding her breath—looked to Sirius as he surveyed the other two Gryffindor girls.

"Mate, come on," James said quietly.

Thinking it an adequate explanation, he nodded. "Right," he sighed and sat down.

Althea exhaled and noticed Lily shaking her head with an expression of mild aggravation on her face. It was not the first outburst from Sirius, and afterward, the mood was always tense and brooding. No one questioned Sirius…ever.

"Ten minutes?" Remus proposed, resting his arm on the back of his chair. "It's such a lovely day."

James let out a laugh of approval as he clapped a moody Sirius on the shoulder. "Excellent," he replied, smiling.

"I thought Muggle Studies—"

"How thick are you?" Sirius remarked, interrupting Peter. "We'll have _two_ classes to skive off then."

The tips of Peter's ears pinked. "Sorry," he murmured shyly, sinking lower in his seat. "You're right."

"Of course, I am," Sirius agreed, folding his arms. He looked toward the other students and rolled his eyes. "Snivellus, he's not even here yet! Put that quill down!" he joked viciously and the class erupted in laughter—except for Lily and Althea.

Snape muttered something, at which the students near him hooted with laughter.

"What was that, Snivelly?" Sirius asked, leaning forward.

Althea quickly turned to look at the blackboard and covered her face with her hands. How many more detentions would Sirius add to his two?

"Whatever he said, Black, it isn't as important as what I will say," Professor Erlenmeyer said, and Althea lowered her hands.

For the first time, Althea was grateful to see that obnoxious professor. Erlenmeyer, his arms full of books and rolls of parchment, sauntered up the center aisle to his desk. Sirius muttered to James about an alleged indiscretion between Erlenmeyer and a female house-elf and the four boys laughed conspiratorially.

"Silence," Erlenmeyer warned, placing the books and rolls of parchment on his desk. "Open your books to page four hundred and thirty-two."

Some groaned, others grumbled, and others—like Althea—silently, but begrudgingly opened their books to the page. Upon reading the title of the chapter, Althea had a small, sinking feeling develop in her stomach. _Werewolves_, she thought, uncomfortably looking at the photograph of the man slowly transforming into his wolf form. Uneasy, her eyes drifted to her left to observe Remus, patiently sitting and casually tapping his quill against the edge of the book. Remus's eyes met hers and he smiled pleasantly, at which, Althea mustered a pleasant, but feeble smile. _It doesn't seem to bother him; therefore, it shouldn't bother me_, she thought as Remus rolled his eyes at James and Sirius's snickering.

"You are already aware of the five signs of the werewolf, correct?" Erlenmeyer asked, tapping the blackboard with his wand. "Miss Lennon?"

As Martha spoke, the five signs of the werewolf appeared in Erlenmeyer's grandiose script across the black board. Sirius's snickering transformed into outright laughter.

"Black? How are werewolves funny to you?" Erlenmeyer asked, narrowing his eyes.

Althea turned her head and Sirius winked at her. "We were taught werewolves our third-years," he answered, leaning back in his chair. "Let's learn something else."

Althea quickly turned to see Erlenmeyer's lips had thinned. "I will teach what I please in this class," he replied shortly and violently tapped his wand against the blackboard—more words appearing on the board. "More in depth than the elementary knowledge of a third-year. Now, do you remember how werewolves are made? Anyone? Mr. Lupin."

A gasp caught in Althea's throat as she looked to Remus, who had stopped doodling. "Bitten by another werewolf at the full moon, Professor," he replied calmly and picked up his quill to resume doodling.

"Wrong," Erlenmeyer replied, very pleased with himself. "Obviously, _some_ in this class have forgotten," he continued, staring over her head at Sirius.

Althea's mouth opened slightly. _What is he getting at_, she thought, her eyes shifting to see Remus's expression of disbelief—he had dropped his quill.

"But, Professor, I believe it states here—" Remus said, pointing to the book.

"I believe _I'm_ the authority on werewolves in this class," Erlenmeyer replied smugly, folding his arms.

There was a loud _crack_ behind her as Sirius's chair had fallen forward; the three boys erupted in laughter. Althea quietly groaned as she massaged her temple.

Erlenmeyer's arms dropped to his sides. "Potter, Black, Pettigrew," he said—his voice slightly louder, "detention!"

The three had quieted.

"Berk," Sirius muttered.

"What was that, Black?" he asked, walking closer to the first row. "Another detention?"

"Continue with your lesson, Professor," Sirius replied, and Althea did not have to turn to know Sirius was smirking.

"One more outburst from you, Mr. Black, and you will spend the rest of the school year in detention," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "Now," he sighed, looking to the rest of the students, "it is _partially_ correct that a person is made a werewolf by a bite at the full moon—"

Althea rolled her eyes at Remus. The corner of Remus's upper lip twitched into a smile.

"—however, this isn't in your books, so it is in your best interests to write it—"

Althea glanced at Lily's parchment, and noticed she was embellishing a drawing in the margins, which at one time, might have read, _JP. It can't be_, she thought, rapidly blinking her eyes. _'JP' cannot stand for James Potter, can it? Lily fancying James? No, no, it's just my imagination_. Althea saw Lily trace "J" and then "P" in the drawing.

"—werewolves are also born—"

"Ha!" Althea laughed, but soon covered her mouth.

Wide-eyed, she looked at Professor Erlenmeyer—his face pale. "Do you find the existence of werecubs funny?" he asked in disbelief.

Werecubs? Althea raised an eyebrow. Was there such a thing? No, her father and others had disproved that hypothesis. She sank in her chair. She was not laughing at Erlenmeyer's preposterous notion of werecubs, but at Lily's possible affections for James Potter…although Althea could never say so to Erlenmeyer or the class.

"Do you, Miss Morrigan?"

Althea nodded—she would never divulge Lily's secret.

A look of sheer horror enveloped Erlenmeyer's face. "Werewolves are not a joke!" he breathed. "You—yes, you—Miss Morrigan are the _most_ susceptible to the werewolves—"

Althea pointed her index finger at her chest. "Me?" she mouthed, furrowing her eyebrows. She looked to Lily, and Lily quickly placed her hand over the drawing.

"Yes! Werewolves are dangerous, blood-thirsty creatures—no laughing, Black and Potter—that would no doubt love to tear out your throat," he explained, his hands balled into fists, "or worse, keep you!"

"Keep me, Professor?" she questioned, attempting not to laugh again at such an absurd notion.

"It is the ultimate goal of the male werewolf," he explained and looked at her condescendingly, "your father didn't write about it, I'm afraid."

Althea gave him a nasty look. No one disrespected her father's work. She felt her body start to tremble with rage and her heart beat wildly against her chest as she looked at the smug professor. Yes, her father was eccentric, but he was right. Erlenmeyer was an idiot.

Erlenmeyer, haughtily leaned against his desk as he explained, "The male werewolf calculatingly lures—or even abducts—the naïve female to his 'den' and forces them to bear werecubs…. The female that willingly participates in carnal activities with a male werewolf will become a werewolf as well…. Even a kiss has been shown—"

"That's a lie!" Althea shrieked, her face very hot.

The class gasped. Sirius and James let out laughs of surprise. Her head and stomach were reeling—she had never disrespected a professor. _It's not true! It's just not true_, she thought, not daring to look toward Remus. Erlenmeyer had insulted her father, her first boyfriend, and her character. Althea eyes shifted to Lily. Lily's green eyes were very wide as she stared at her parchment.

Erlenmeyer's haughty demeanor vanished. "Would you, Morrigan, enlighten the class on _how_ you know that it is a lie?" he asked, his jaw tightening.

"_Althea_," Remus whispered, "_don't_."

Althea took a deep gulp of air and surveyed the class. The other students were looking at her with great interest…including Snape, who never looked at anything but his parchment or the blackboard.

"Well," she began nervously, kicking her heel against the floor, "I reckon a furry baby would be on the front page of the _Prophet_."

The class erupted in laughter and Althea sank lower in her chair. _I'll have detentions for the rest of this year_, she thought as a message appeared on her parchment:

_Good one__._

Althea recognized the handwriting as Remus's, and turned her face to see him, smiling. Althea tapped her wand against her paper, and with her quill wrote:

_I'm sorry. I couldn't help but say something._

"Morrigan," Erlenmeyer said, which caused Althea to straighten, "anymore outbursts and you will receive detention…. Yes, Black?"

"Professor," Sirius said with mock concern, "I saw a hairy baby once. I then realized it was my brother…is he a werewolf?"

James snorted with laughter.

Erlenmeyer thoughtfully looked at Sirius. "How hairy was he?"

"Very hairy," Sirius replied, his voice trembling with suppressed laughter.

Erlenmeyer rubbed his chin as though he was pondering Regulus's possible lycanthropy. "Right, I believe the best way to determine it would be to know the signs of a werewolf—yes, Potter?"

Althea looked to her parchment and saw that Remus had replied:

_You don't need to defend._

"Have you ever _met_ a werewolf?" James asked.

"Bugger all," Remus muttered as the three boys snickered behind them.

Althea shook her head at the boys' inconsiderate teasing, and wrote:

_I can't let that idiot say such things. Kissing?_

Remus quickly replied:

_I know, but please, mind yourself._

Althea briefly lifted her eyes from her parchment to see Erlenmeyer nodding. "Yes," he answered solemnly, "and they were the foulest of creatures."

The boys continued to snicker as Sirius laughed under his breath, "You're foul."

"What was that, Black?" Erlenmeyer asked sharply.

Althea shook her head as she replied to Remus:

_It's untrue! He's an idiot!_

A new message immediately appeared on her parchment:

_You don't need to defend._

Althea straightened in her chair and hastily wrote:

_Why not?_

Remus did not reply.

Althea huffed and scribbled:

_Look, I'm the prime example of how untrue it is._

Remus sighed and she heard his placating tone in her head as his message appeared:

_Please__, all right?_

"Oh, I heard my brother howl," Sirius replied with mock concern. Other students laughed as well.

Suddenly, Snape spoke, "Is it true there are _ways_ of determining a werewolf other than the full moon?" He turned to look in the direction of the Gryffindors—an awful sneer across his face.

"Excellent question," Erlenmeyer said. "There are a few signs to determine a werewolf—"

Althea shook her head slightly as she answered:

_Why can't we talk about it? Are you ashamed?_

As if Remus was anticipating her response:

_No, I'm not ashamed, but we promised._

Althea wasted no time to write:

_I know, but you are ashamed._

She heard Remus sit up in his chair and received:

_I'm not!_

Althea narrowed her eyes as she wrote:

_You are!_

Remus sighed heavily and quickly wrote:

_Don't tell me how I'm supposed to feel!_

Althea sighed angrily and did not respond.

"—werewolves have claw-like hands, bushy eyebrows, elongated noses, beady eyes," Erlenmeyer explained as a few of the students were frantically taking notes. "It is often said that the rotting stench of his last victim is smelt on his breath."

"Snivellus," James laughed.

Sirius and Peter laughed.

Althea heard Lily turn in her chair, and knew she was narrowing her eyes at him. Althea's eyes glanced at Lily's paper to see the _JP_ thickly crossed out. _It's embarrassing, I know_, she thought, returning her gaze to her own parchment. _To fancy someone you thought an idiot for so long_.

"What? It's true, Evans," James whispered.

Althea blinked as a response from Remus appeared:

_Do you understand now why I had you promise?_

Althea rolled her eyes:

_Yes, because of prats like him._

"No," Remus whispered and wrote:

_To protect you._

Althea swallowed a deep breath:

_Me?_

Althea turned her head slightly to look at Remus.

He nodded:

_If others knew about me, knew about us, _

_you'd be ostracized as well. _

_I couldn't let that happen._

Althea furrowed her eyebrows as she replied:

_No one knows._

Remus faintly shook his head:

_Eventually, they will know about me._

Remus's eyes looked to the other side of the room—his expression grim. Althea looked as well and wondered what Remus could have been looking at. Returning her eyes to her parchment, she saw new handwriting…Sirius's handwriting:

_What are you both feverishly writing about?_

Althea frowned, the sick feeling returning to her stomach. She had not told Sirius about losing her virginity to Remus for she had promised Remus to never tell. It was their secret, and more, to Althea, a lie she had to maintain. She did not know which option was worse: to betray Remus's trust or to let Sirius believe a lie. For now, she would continue to let Sirius believe that lie. However, did it really matter…to keep it a secret from Sirius? It was only one time. Hadn't he lost his virginity by his own veiled admission?

She tapped the tip of her wand underneath Sirius's message and with her quill wrote:

_That Erlenmeyer's a prat._

She heard Sirius chuckle from behind and another message appeared:

_Of course, he is! _

_Right, for our essay,_

_could we borrow your father's books?_

Althea frowned:

_I thought Remus had copies._

She heard Sirius sigh and a saw on her paper:

_Remus left them at home. __Please__?_

Althea smiled as she wrote:

_We'll receive detentions._

Quickly, Sirius replied:

_It's worth it._

Althea turned in her seat to look at Sirius. She smiled as she nodded, giving her approval for them to use her books.

"Morrigan," Erlenmeyer said loudly, and Althea rolled her eyes as she turned to face him, "do not fraternize with students during class."

Althea curtly nodded and took her quill in her hand:

_It __is__ worth it._


	31. Hogwarts, June 1977

**Hogwarts, June 1977**

"I suppose this would be good advice," Althea commented as she continued to read her Muggle magazine.

Lily leapt onto Althea's bed. "What's good advice?" she asked as she continued to brush her hair.

"Not sharing your birth control pills with your friends."

Lily grabbed the magazine from Althea's hands. "Is that _actually_ in here?" she asked, eagerly flipping through the magazine pages. "Oh my, it _is_," she said and started to read. "Maybe we should send this to Petunia," she added mischievously, handing back the magazine.

Althea laughed. "I think _Vernon Dursley_ is her birth control," she said and winked.

Lily shuddered.

"Oh, don't fancy the dull boy?" she teased, smiling.

Lily groaned and rolled her eyes. "He has the charm of a potato."

Althea frowned playfully, shaking her head. "Now, now, _some_ might find him charming," she said and started to snicker. "There are those that do like potatoes."

"Why would she want to marry someone so…so _boring_?" Lily said and sighed, flinging herself back onto Althea's bed.

"Maybe he has other qualities," she replied, flinging herself next to Lily. "You know the magic myth: 'Muggles do it better.'" Althea turned her face toward Lily and the two began to laugh.

Lily sighed and smiled. "You didn't have to spend the whole Easter Holiday sitting across from him at dinner," she said, rubbing her forehead. "It was _ghastly_. Bloody pipes or whatever his bloody boring job is." Lily sighed—her green eyes focused on something distant. "I want her to marry someone…someone _entertaining_." Lily frowned. "She used to be so alive…. Remember her acting and painting? She had the chance to star as Miranda, but gave it all up for _Dursley_," she said bitterly. "Doesn't sing anymore either."

Althea frowned. "She still misses Julian."

Lily nodded.

Julian was a Muggle-born wizard Petunia had met three years ago in Diagon Alley as Lily searched for her school things. Julian and Petunia were madly in love, and were engaged to be married. Althea enjoyed spending summer holiday weekends with Lily as Julian entertained the entire family with stories of his travels managing dragons and other ferocious magical beasts. She fondly remembered his rich singing voice as Petunia accompanied him, while he twirled her across the sitting room, on Sunday afternoons. It had almost been a year since Petunia refused to attend his funeral by locking herself in her room.

"I want her to marry someone dashing, and handsome, and funny, and alive," she said, staring sadly at the burgundy canopy. "I don't want her to settle."

"Don't you ever settle," Althea demanded.

"I won't," Lily answered, turning her face toward Althea. "I want to marry for love, and not because of convenience or comfort."

"Good," she sighed and stared up into her canopy. "I'd never allow you to anyway…. What are you laughing at?"

Althea turned her head to see Lily giggling as she read the magazine. "Have you read the _entire_ magazine?" she asked and giggled deeply as she read.

"No? Why?"

"This," she answered, her giggling subsiding, "'John Harrington has been linked to various _It_ girls, including the stunning Celia Thompson, the vivacious Asia Tittsworth-Cole (oh, that is an awful surname, Althea), the wealthy Lady Cordelia Griffin-Reid, and the elusive _Lady Althea Morrigan_—'"

"Let me see it!" she exclaimed and quickly grabbed the magazine from Lily.

Lily continued to giggle as Althea's eyes scanned the article about Britain's most eligible bachelors. John Harrington was number five. The top five bachelors received a full page, and much of the banal article dealt with past girlfriends and speculation on future ones.

"Bloody hell," Althea breathed, wincing at the article. "'On his relationship with Lady Morrigan, Harrington was elusive as well. A simple summer romance…or something more? Only Lady Morrigan and Harrington know (bollocks). According to close friends, the two spent a great deal of the past summer together,'" she read and groaned. "Only because Gran forced me to!"

"Did you see the photograph?" Lily asked, her finger pointing to the small inset photograph next to John Harrington's smiling face.

Althea looked from the tip of Lily's finger to the photograph. "Bloody hell," she groaned, staring at the photograph, "it looks as though I'm about to kiss him!"

"I really want to hex them," Lily remarked ominously. "Who are those friends?"

"I don't have any Muggle friends, you know that—except for Sophie and she _loathes_ him," she replied and secretly smiled at the black dog bearing its teeth at John in the photograph. "No friend would give such lies to the magazines…. It's all about position and that they really enjoy hearing themselves speak."

Lily laughed evilly and Althea raised an eyebrow. "I'll photograph you snogging with Black and send it in," she offered, her eyes narrowed and thinking.

Althea smiled at her friend's gesture. "Thank you, but I doubt Sirius would let you escape with that photograph…. Anyway, the magazine would concoct some story that I'm marrying him, or something."

"I'm marrying Tristan, and that is all that matters," Jane replied happily, as she lay next to Lily.

Althea raised herself onto her elbows. "When did you get here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just now," she answered, smiling. "I had my talk with McGonagall and Dumbledore about not returning next year. Everything's arranged and this summer I will become Mrs. Tristan Mallory," she continued proudly.

"Well, congratulations," Althea replied, frowning.

_What a waste_, she thought, lying back on her bed. _Attend school, get married, and do nothing else useful in your life_. Jane had spent the entire Easter Holiday in France with Tristan. When she arrived at Hogwarts after holiday, she announced she would not return for her seventh-year. She would, instead, marry Tristan and move to France.

"Oh, don't frown, Althea," Jane replied happily. "Sirius will ask you one day."

"I don't want him to ask me," she answered and sighed. "We'd tire of each other after a couple of years and get divorced."

"Divorce? There's no such thing in wizard marriages," Jane replied dismissively. "It's until death," she added dreamily.

Althea made a face. "What if you don't love the person anymore?"

"That's what love potions are for," Jane replied as if everyone knew. "My mum and dad have been using them for ages."

"I don't want my feelings to come from a vial," Althea murmured, looking up at her canopy.

"We've been using them for centuries," Jane explained. "That's how wizard marriages last."

Althea made a face. "I could never imagine my feelings for Sirius coming from a vial," she said and sighed. "No, thank you."

"Does Sirius know you feel this way?" Lily asked.

"We've talked about this sort of thing in passing, but he has a habit of changing the subject," she answered, frowning. "He despises it as much as I do."

"Althea," Lily began, turning on her side, "you have to tell him that you feel this way."

Althea laughed loudly. "You think he's going to ask me to marry him? You've gone mad," she replied, continuing to laugh. "He changes the subject because I've brought it up!"

"You have?" Lily asked, interested.

"Yes," she said, "after Jane's engagement. We agreed—sorry, Jane—that it was a silly thing to do…to marry so young. He doesn't want to settle down until he's at least thirty and I couldn't agree with him more."

"You're dating him for the snogging, aren't you?" Lily teased.

Althea's lips quivered into a smile. "Listen," Althea said, sitting up, "I love Sirius, but I'm too young. We're _too_ young."

"You're thinking like a Muggle," Jane replied, sitting up.

"So?" she snorted. "We have two very different plans for our futures, and they don't mesh. I don't expect him to travel with me to some village in Benin, and he doesn't expect me to live in London." Althea stood and walked over to the fireplace, resting her forearm on the mantel. "I hate London…he knows that."

Lily sat up and frowned. "You don't hide your fear of commitment very well," she said, stretching her arms forward and letting them drop heavily into her lap.

Althea tapped her fingernails against the mantel. "It is scary," she said, with her fingernails tapping out a tune on the mantel. "I mean think about it," she added, turning toward the two, "how old is Dumbledore?"

"Old," the two replied in unison.

"Exactly," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "That is a long time. Muggle marriages barely make it to fifty because one or both dies. Using a love potion to hide resentment? I'd rather die than use a damn potion because I started to resent him."

Lily smiled and covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"What?" Althea asked, irritated.

"You," she said between giggles. "Stop being so overly dramatic, Althea."

Sighing, Althea shook her head. "You're right."

"No, this sort of thing is important," Jane replied thoughtfully. "They already have a special bond."

"What bond?" Althea asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jane rolled her eyes. "You've—you've _you know_," she insinuated.

"I've what?"

Jane quietly growled as Lily bit her lip to hide her amusement. "You've," she began and leaned forward and continued in a whisper, "shagged him."

Althea felt the apples of her cheeks pink. "No," she answered, annoyed, folding her arms.

"Really?" Jane asked breathlessly, wide-eyed. "But it's—"

"Yes, _really_," she replied, frowning, kicking her heel against the floor.

"Never mind, then," Jane said with a knowing smirk, standing. "You'll know eventually."

Althea rolled her eyes and Lily gave her a warning look.

"I must owl Tristan, and tell him the good news," she said excitedly, clapping her hands together.

Althea shook her head as she watched Jane skip from the dormitory. She mimicked kicking Jane in the backside as she exited through the door.

"We're in her wedding," Lily said, looking from the doorway to Althea. "She's chosen teal with gold trim for our gowns."

"Ghastly." Althea sighed and sat on her bed. "What was she talking about?" she asked, pulling her knees to her chest.

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's a myth, but of course she'd believe it," she replied, turning toward Althea. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh no," Althea began, a smirk developing across her lips. "Tell me she doesn't believe that."

"She does," Lily replied, smiling. "She's driving Tristan mad."

"Probably why the wedding's so soon then," Althea quipped, throwing herself back onto her bed. "How could any reasonable person believe such rubbish?"

"Jane has never been reasonable," Lily said, "as you like to remind."

"And she would say, 'Reason is absent from magic, Althea…it's magic!'" she said in her best impersonation of Jane. "Where did she learn such awful rubbish?"

Lily shrugged. "Her mother?"

Althea nodded. "The same woman convinced in the rise of werecubs," she said and chewed the inside of her bottom lip.

"Not everyone is like us."

"As I'm very much reminded."

"Althea," Lily began, crawling closer, "does Black know about Lupin?"

The question caused a jolt behind her navel. It was a thought she struggled with: should she tell Sirius about Remus? She was frightened—how could she ever tell him she slept with his best friend? Although it happened before she ever thought of dating Sirius, she still felt like she betrayed him somehow. They had been so honest in their relationship, and this information, so central to her felt like it kept her truly from him. It was the seventies, after all. Contraceptive Charms weren't just in _New Witch_, but in _Witch Weekly_. _God, I don't want to know what he'd think of me_, she thought as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

"No, he doesn't," she answered softly. "He just assumes that I've never done it."

"Has he?"

Althea nodded. "Rosmerta."

"Rosmerta?" Lily gasped. "And that's the only one?"

Althea nodded. "I'm terrified, though," she said, sitting up. "He won't take it well."

"He'll get over it," she replied, resting her hand on her shoulder. "He will…I'm sure of it."

Althea shook her head. "You can't really tell with Sirius, "she started to explain, "the most mundane word or phrase could anger him."

"I've known that—"

"No," she said and brought her knees to her chest, "you don't really know."

A small crease appeared between Lily's eyebrows. "Has he done something to you?" she asked, leaning closer. "I'll—"

Althea vigorously shook her head. "No, no, he hasn't done anything," she replied and looked to her painted toenails—she loved that color pink. "I'm his Althea—not his girlfriend—_his_ Althea."

"But you are—"

"_I'm not_," she said, looking into Lily eyes. "He says, 'we're above labels,' whatever the bloody hell that means."

"He's being an idiot," she said plainly, smoothing the hair from Althea's face.

"He's serious, though," she replied, resting her chin on her knees. "Pettigrew called me Sirius's girlfriend, and Sirius replied, 'She's not my girlfriend, Peter, she's my Althea.'"

"Weird," she breathed, slightly shaking her head in disbelief.

"Right?" she agreed and laughed hollowly. "There are times, I wonder if this isn't an elaborate scheme to have you date Potter."

"That _isn't_ true," she said, placing her hand on Althea's forearm. "He loves you very much, Althea."

Althea sighed. "I'd only dated Remus for a few months…how does that look?"

Lily shrugged. "Why be ashamed?"

"I'm not—"

"You're acting like it," she said. "He obviously doesn't believe that rubbish our dear former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor taught us. You snogged Remus, right?"

Althea nodded.

"And Sirius has snogged you," she said, leaning closer.

"I'll hurt him if I tell."

"Right," Lily said, firmly placing her hands on Althea's shoulders, "you'll hurt him even more if you _don't_ tell. He'll discover it eventually, and then, he might not be so apt to accept it…. I do know that he despises deception."

Althea nodded soberly. "He does hate lies."

* * *

Althea sighed as she began her letter to Sirius. She decided she could not tell him in person, for fear of crying or worse. It was best if she wrote him—he could not shout at a letter and she would not see the initial repulsion and disappointment on his face. _He's going to hate me_, she thought as she dipped the quill into the inkbottle, _and he's going to hate Remus_. As the quill touched the clean parchment, she realized she did not know how to begin her letter. What should she say? How much should she explain? She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, closing her eyes briefly. She would try her best to explain. _How can I explain_, she thought as the ink dripped onto the parchment. _He has to know that under other circumstances, I would have told him, but I had promised—we had promised…. Oh God, what this will do to their friendship_, she thought, placing her quill to the side of the parchment.

"I can't…I just can't tell him" she whispered, looking at the large inkblot on the parchment. "I can't hurt him…. Anyway, exams are coming so I shouldn't write him. It would upset his revision."

_What the bloody hell am I thinking? He doesn't revise_, she thought, running her fingers through her hair. _I'm just stalling…. I'll have to tell him eventually…. Maybe it is better now that he learns…learns before anything goes further_….

Althea picked up her quill and frowned as the ink had dried at the tip. Dipping the quill in the ink, she stared blankly at her parchment. _How can Lily believe he could overcome something such as this? He can become so unbelievably angry when provoked. He'll never forget this_, she thought, taking a deep, shaky breath. _But James would be there; James would stop him. He could keep Sirius from doing something rash. He listens to James and no one else…. Maybe if I told James and told him the circumstances he could be there when I tell Sirius_, she thought, but quickly frowned. _Oh, that isn't good at all. Sirius would resent that James knew before he did, and this is so private_….

"No, it is best if I write him," she murmured, stretching her legs underneath the writing desk.

_He might've figured it out, too_. Althea's stomach jolted forward and she swallowed at the queasiness in her stomach. _I've let him touch my underpants…he might've thought I let Remus do the same_.

"Sirius must understand that I haven't kept it from him for some malevolent purpose," she whispered as she started her letter.

Althea spent the early afternoon composing her letter to Sirius. She wrote many different letters—each awkward and each painful. Dissatisfied, she incinerated them all, but one, the third of the six she wrote. It was shorter than the rest at two pages, but it conveyed the truth of her relationship with Remus and her regret at keeping such truth from Sirius. Nervously, she folded the letter and walked toward the Owlery. She knew the letter sounded awkward, but at this point, there were more things to regret than the awkwardness of sentence structure. She had finally expressed something that was eating away at her for the past year. Tying the letter to Gabriel's leg, Althea watched as her owl flew from the Owlery. She could not have handed him the note in person. The thought of witnessing his initial reaction to her letter terrified her. _I think I might have lost him_, she thought as she left the Owlery.

Her mind and body consumed with uneasiness, she walked toward the beech tree and sat underneath its green, leafy branches. For early June, it was remarkably warm, with an equally remarkable blue sky. Althea rested her head against the trunk and waited for Sirius. Closing her eyes, she thought of Sirius's initial reaction—she could visualize it. First, he would scan the letter, his face hardening as he continued, and his jaw tightening as his face paled. Then, he would inhale a ragged breath and bite the inside of his cheek. Next, he would look from the letter to her and….

"Hello, lovely," he said cheerfully, placing a kiss on her lips.

Shaken, Althea opened her eyes and pushed him away from her. This was not the response she had expected. Did he receive her letter? Had Gabriel found him or had he found Althea first before Gabriel could deliver the letter?

"You—you read my letter?" she asked apprehensively, biting her bottom lip.

Sirius nodded and kissed her lips again, and Althea pushed him away from her a second time.

"And you—you're—you're okay with it?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Of course, I am," he replied, pulling her close to him.

"You're sure?"

"I don't care," he murmured, placing his lips to hers.

Tears formed in Althea's eyes and she did her best to fight them off—she was joyously relieved. He did not hate her, nor was he angry with her. The nervousness subsided, and any fears she had about the relationship, vanished. _Lily was right_, she thought, sliding her arms around his neck. _You do love me very much_.

Slowly, Althea started to pull away from him. "You are okay with what I wrote?" she asked quietly, attempting to catch her breath.

"Of course," he replied, frowning slightly, "why do you keep asking?"

"I thought you'd hate me, that's all," she answered, folding and unfolding the corner of his shirt collar.

Sirius laughed loudly. "I wouldn't hate you for that," he replied, smiling. "I would rather have you tell me the truth than lie to me."

Smiling as well, Althea threw herself back onto the warm, soft grass, and Sirius, still laughing, crawled next to her. He was okay with it and Althea never felt more relieved and elated.

"I have some wonderful news," he said, lying next to her. Sirius plucked a small yellow flower from between them and twirled it between his fingertips.

"What?" she asked, giggling as Sirius placed the flower in her hair.

Sirius plucked another flower, and placed it in her hair. "My Uncle Alphard died."

Althea plucked a purple flower adjacent to her side. "That's not good news," she replied, placing it behind Sirius's ear.

Sirius wrapped his arm around Althea's waist, propping his head up with his other hand. "He never married and never had any children," he began, stroking her side. "He left me a fair bit of gold."

"I don't believe it," she answered quietly, staring into Sirius's happy eyes.

"Neither do I, but I received a letter from his solicitor. My dear mother had told the family what I had done, and that I'm running around with a non-pureblood," he began—a smile emerging across his face. "He heard my terrible plight and decided to leave me a bit of his fortune," he finished and kissed her cheek.

"That is fantastic," Althea said, placing her arm over Sirius's arm.

"So," he began and cleared his throat. "I'm taking you away from your Gran's," he continued, grinning. "You shouldn't live there anymore. I'm buying a flat in London."

Althea laughed. "I can't live with you."

Sirius frowned. "Why not? It's a perfect idea," he replied and pinched her nose.

"I just can't," Althea pleaded laughingly, as Sirius tickled her side.

"Oh come on! It'll be fantastic. No one telling us what to do," he explained eagerly and quickly kissed her lips. "It'll be loads of fun."

Althea sighed happily. "Sirius, stop acting so silly and foolish."

"No," he replied and pinched her nose. "If you say no, I'll kidnap you and take you away."

Althea laughed. "You'll be put away," she said and kissed the tip of his nose.

Sirius laughed. "They'll never catch me," he replied, grinning.


	32. The Three Broomsticks, April 1994

**The Three Broomsticks and Hogwarts, April 1994**

"It's nice to see you here, Althea," Rosmerta said, placing the shot of Firewhiskey in front of Althea. "I haven't seen you in Hogsmeade for some time," she added, sitting across from her.

Althea nodded as she stared at the shot glass full of Firewhiskey. "Yeah, I've stayed away…don't like the dementors too much."

Rosmerta nodded. "Neither do my customers," she said, pointing around to the almost empty Three Broomsticks.

For a usually busy late Friday afternoon, there were few patrons, which did not surprise Althea. No one liked dementors lurking about in alleyways at nighttime, or at anytime. The Ministry assured residents and patrons that the dementors were safe; however, Althea knew better—probably better than the Ministry. If the dementors were hungry, they did not care if one was innocent. Sometimes their appetites were insatiable, and it did not matter if the Ministry had not ordered the Dementor's Kiss. It happened twice that she could remember, or wanted to remember. The prisoners screamed, pleaded, and went silent. Afterwards, she found that Ministry informed their families they "died of natural causes"—their soulless bodies rotting in Azkaban until they died. Althea had learned a word for those people—zombie—from Marie. According to her, it was a fate worse than death. The person was not alive and not dead—their bodies trapped in everlasting purgatory.

"I don't know what Fudge is thinking," Althea spoke, running her fingertip along the rim of the shot glass.

Rosmerta sighed and rested her chin against her hand. "He's worried about Black," she said, placing her other hand on top of Althea's hand on the shot glass.

Althea frowned.

"I remember…you dated him at Hogwarts."

Uncomfortable, Althea nodded. "I did…at Hogwarts," she answered slowly, removing her hand from the shot glass, and underneath Rosmerta's hand.

More people would remember and more questions would be asked of Althea. Was there any inkling at Hogwarts? The questions would always be tinged with a hint of blame.

Rosmerta laughed warmly. "I remember he would take you _here_ on dates. I never thought The Three Broomsticks was popular with couples," she reminisced, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Popular among friends, but not couples."

Althea smiled weakly. "Sirius and I…were different," she replied, resting her chin against her palm. "In our seventh-year, we would sneak out on weekends and visit the nearest Muggle village."

Rosmerta stared into Althea's eyes—unnerving her. "You would know him better than any of us, then?" she asked, continuing to stare into Althea's eyes.

Althea quickly diverted her eyes back to the shot glass before her. "I thought I did," she said quietly. "Our relationship didn't last after Hogwarts."

"Oh?" Rosmerta asked, raising an eyebrow.

"So, I wouldn't know what he was like, would I?" Althea replied, leaning back against the cool wood of the booth. "After Hogwarts."

Rosmerta frowned. "I just can't agree with Fudge," she said, shaking her head.

Althea sat up. "Fudge?"

Rosmerta nodded. "Ever since Fudge came in a while ago, I can't stop thinking about Black," she said and leaned forward—her expression hopeful. "I thought we could talk because you knew him the way I did."

"Our intimate knowledge," she murmured, slowly rotating the shot glass. Althea leaned forward over the table. "What did Fudge say?"

Rosmerta cleared her throat. "He told me how close Potter and Black were, but I already knew that—anyone who saw those two would know," she said and bit her bottom lip. Her look heavy, she hesitated before she added, "He also told me that he was the Potter's Secret-Keeper."

"Secret-Keeper?"

Rosmerta nodded.

Althea's face paled as she relived Sirius's betrayal of her best friend. _I can't believe Fudge told her this_, she thought, frowning. _Very few knew Sirius was the Secret-Keeper—Remus…Peter…Dumbledore at most—I didn't know…I didn't know until it was too late_.

"What else did he say?" she asked shortly, her eyes narrowing on Rosmerta.

Rosmerta frowned, and attempted to remember. "He said that Black was a double agent," she said, a crease forming between her eyebrows, "and by betraying the Potters, he would show his loyalty to You-Know-Who."

"Did Fudge say that Sirius told the Ministry this?"

Rosmerta shook her head. "He didn't say," she said and Althea faintly growled. "Hagrid mentioned that Sirius was pale when he saw him after what happened to the Potters."

Althea's eyes widened. "Hagrid _saw_ Sirius? When?" she asked, attempting to remain calm.

"After it happened, he had offered to take Harry, but Hagrid refused—"

_Sirius was at Godric's Hollow_, she thought, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"Sirius gave Hagrid his motorbike," she continued, eyeing Althea warily. "He said he didn't need it anymore."

"Did Hagrid say more?"

Rosmerta shook her head.

Althea dismissed Rosmerta's caution. "Fudge—did he say anything else?"

Rosmerta nodded. "He said that he was on the run when Pettigrew cornered him," she said, leaning back. "After the explosion, Fudge was the first on the scene. He said that only a trained Hit Wizard could have taken down Black."

"Fudge believes he was that dangerous?"

Rosmerta nodded and sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, Althea," she began, looking thoughtfully upon Althea. "I have a difficult time believing Black could have betrayed the Potters…especially James. He was always so nice," she finished, standing from the table.

"Whether he was nice or not had nothing to do with betraying the Potters, did it?" she remarked, lifting the shot glass to her lips.

Rosmerta sighed. "I suppose not. What will you drink to?"

Althea smiled sadly. "To April Fools," she said, tipping her head back and gulping the fiery liquor.

_And to Sirius's birthday_, she thought, placing the shot glass on the table, _may his misery be at least half of what is mine_.

* * *

With the tip of her wand, Althea lit what would be the first of many cigarettes, inhaling deeply the noxious smoke. Exhaling slowly, she watched the stream of smoke leisurely rise, lingering for a moment, and dissipating into her canopy. How she missed her own quarters. These quarters were adequate, but sparse and the decoration dreadful—hues of gold and avocado. Lying on her bed, Althea took another deep drag on her cigarette. Sirius's birthday—the one day she renounced her inhibitions and indulged in gluttonous activities. She did not bother with a glass this year—she drank her family rum from the bottle. As she lay, sprawled across her bed, half-drunk, she wondered where Sirius was. Was he celebrating his birthday? _He's probably not having as such a lovely time as me_, she thought taking another gulp from her bottle. _I'm drinking myself into pleasant oblivion_.

"A trained Hit Wizard," she said aloud and began to laugh. "Fudge, you stupid git."

Althea sighed and took another drag on her cigarette. Sirius—a murderous Death Eater? Althea laughed again—if anyone would have known his character, it should have been her. She lived with him, made love to him, and tended to his wounds so that he could continue to fight. _Why did Fudge tell Rosmerta that_, she thought as she put out her cigarette, _and who told Fudge that Sirius was the Secret-Keeper_? Althea frowned and gulped her rum. Could Dumbledore or Sirius have told the Ministry? Furrowing her eyebrows, she shoved the cork in the bottle. _He wasn't in Azkaban for being the Secret-Keeper—that would have come out after they arrested him. How fast they arrested him too_, she thought, rubbing her forehead. _It took them two years to find me. How convenient for Fudge to be in the area, or they might never have caught him. Arrested immediately, thrown in Azkaban, no trial—at least they had the decency to give me a trial. I confessed too, but Sirius didn't confess…did he_? Althea sighed and rested her arms behind her head.

"Hagrid," she whispered, wide-eyed.

After Lily's death, Althea refused to talk about Sirius, and wanted that part of her life never to have existed. She had never talked to Hagrid about the night he found Harry. She did not want to know the details of the discovery of Lily's bruised and broken body covered in rubble. According to Rosmerta, Hagrid had disclosed that Sirius had been at Godric's Hollow, he was upset, and that he offered to take Harry. Althea vigorously rubbed her temples, in an attempt to stop the drunken fog from seeping into her brain—she needed to think. How did Hagrid know that James and Lily were dead? If Sirius were the Secret-Keeper, wouldn't he have arrived first? Althea sat up as she forced her mind to think. If Sirius were so keen on Harry's demise, why didn't he kill Hagrid and Harry then? Althea gasped, placing her hand to her mouth. _He gave Hagrid his motorbike_, she thought, clutching the blankets. _He loved that motorbike and wouldn't have given it up for anything. If Sirius were on the run, he would have needed his motorbike_. Althea dropped her hand from her mouth—he said that he did not need his motorbike anymore.

"He was going to kill himself," she whispered, her mouth remaining open after the last syllable.

If Sirius knew that James, Lily, and she were dead, he would have killed himself. He _was not_ on the run, and he _was not_ a Death Eater; her stomach churned and convulsed. Covering her mouth, she ran to her bathroom, fell to her knees—the thick avocado-colored tile sent sharp pains up her thighs—and she began to convulse and heave the caustic, foul mixture of bile and liquor into her toilet. She sat with her back to the wall, her head rested against her knees. _Why would he want Harry if he had betrayed James_, she thought, tightening her fists. _It doesn't make any sense. He would have died for James—he saved James's life_!

"How would Hagrid have known?" she muttered, frustrated, slamming her fist on the cold tile floor. The notion of Hagrid arriving first to Godric's Hollow perplexed her. "Someone else…_someone else_!" Her stomach erupted once more and she quickly knelt over the toilet.

With her head resting against the wall, and her legs sprawled in front of her she continued her thoughts. _Sirius had nothing to live for; why did he allow himself to be taken alive? Why didn't he die in Azkaban? How did he survive all these years? Why would he have escaped now? Unless…maybe Sirius wasn't the Secret-Keeper_….

The blood quickly rushed from her face to her stomach and she shuddered. "He's at Hogwarts," she muttered, her lips losing all sensation—her arms tingling. "Remus," she whispered, horrified, as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Sirius was right. It was him, and I—I convinced Lily to trust him."

She rested her head against her knees and cried. It was so easy—Sirius—James's best friend the Secret-Keeper. No one would ever suspect otherwise. Sirius, a member of the Black family, the darkest of wizards; their son Regulus died a Death Eater, and left Sirius the lone heir—all of that money—all of that Black money. No one would question a Black's loyalties. Of course, Althea would not have believed Sirius returned to his family. There had to be another motive, one that she would believe. All those times he protected her and saved her life—what was one more?

"How stupid could I have been!" she said angrily, clenching her jaw. "Damn family. Damn name," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Dizzy, Althea's head slumped between her knees. She spent the rest of the evening passed out on her bathroom floor.


	33. Hogwarts, October 1977

**Hogwarts, October 1977**

Alexander Star's voice wailed in unison to Rex Stardust's screeching guitar in a rhythm that reminded Althea of sex.

"God, Morrigan," Sirius murmured thickly, burying his face in her neck.

Althea gasped for breath. "Althea."

"Right," he breathed, his fingertips reaching for the clasp of her bra.

Althea grinned and bit her bottom lip in eager anticipation as she lifted herself slightly from the sofa. Sirius grunted and frowned as he fumbled with the clasp behind her. The position grew increasing uncomfortable as he tugged and twisted at the clasp.

"Wait," she whispered and swatted his hands away. Althea wrinkled her nose as she fought with the clasp—her trembling hands making it difficult to do so. "There," she said, unhooking the clasp and felt the easing of elastic. "There."

Althea reclined upon the sofa and Sirius eagerly followed, propping himself up by his hands. With his shirt undone and his trousers partially unzipped, he smiled as he looked down at Althea—thick locks of black hair resting against his eyelashes and moving when he blinked. Althea looked up at Sirius and swept the locks from his face. She laughed quietly as they returned.

Sirius tilted his head to the side and frowned thoughtfully. "Do you—"

Suddenly, Sirius lifted his head and furrowed his brow. Althea looked to her side and saw the empty abandoned teacher's study.

"It's nothing," he muttered, shaking his head.

Althea giggled happily at the ticklish feeling of Sirius's lips against her naked neck. She glided her fingers along his bare spine, enjoying the way his smooth, warm skin felt against her fingertips. She caught her breath as Sirius's hand slipped under her bra, but soon winced at his enthusiastic groping.

"'Thea," he murmured, his thumb brushing against her nipple. "I love you."

Althea fiercely bit down on her lip. She arched her back, lifting her pelvis to meet his—she could feel him against her naked thigh. Suddenly, the couple heard what sounded like someone moving furniture. Althea gasped, sitting up and crossing her arms to cover herself. Sirius surveyed the empty room and inhaled an angry breath.

"Right," he growled, tossing the hair from his face. "Right."

Althea craned her neck to look around the room as Sirius stood. He thrust his arm toward the phonograph and Figgy Sky's drum solo quieted. The room was sparsely decorated with a phonograph, an empty bookshelf, and the sofa Althea currently sat upon. Carefully, she clasped her bra as Sirius, wand drawn, walked forward.

In one swift movement, Sirius raised his wand and roared. "_STUPEFY_! _LEVICORPUS_!"

Suddenly, there was a _BANG!_ and Althea screamed, pulling her blouse tightly closed. Snape, unconscious, hung upside down at least ten feet in the air.

"Disgusting," Sirius sneered and lifted Snape higher into the air—his feet touched the ceiling.

Althea curled her knees to her chest. "Why would he—"

"Does it matter?" he replied as he walked toward her. "Looking to get us expelled, probably," he added grimly as he stood before Althea.

"Don't wake him," she said and stood. "Leave him here for the night," she added and began to button her blouse.

* * *

"Sirius, your tie," Althea replied, giggling.

Sirius looked down at his tie, which was askew. "Oh, what? Oh," he replied, straightening his tie. "Could I borrow your comb?"

"Right," she mumbled, fumbling in her pocket for her comb. "Oh no," she said, handing him her comb.

"What?" he asked, combing his hair.

Althea frowned. "I lost a button," she answered, looking at her blouse. "It's one people will notice, too."

Sirius smiled, handing back her comb. "Just close your robe—no one will notice," he replied and winked.

"Are you two ready _now_?" the Fat Lady asked, agitated.

"Of course, we are," Sirius replied cheerfully. "Star-crossed."

Althea and Sirius entered the common room, which was filled with first-year Gryffindors. Some of the first-years stopped their activities and followed Althea and Sirius's movements as they walked toward the dormitories. It was terrible to admit it, but she enjoyed the stares from the first-years. She was a seventh-year—someone the first-years admired. Sirius stopped her by the girls' dormitory staircase.

Leaning close to her he whispered, "I'll see you later, right?"

He glanced to his side and smiled. Althea looked over as well and noticed the first-years staring at them.

She nodded. "What time?" she asked quietly.

"Meet me here around eight," he whispered and kissed her cheek.

Althea walked up the staircases that led to the seventh-year dormitory. Upon entering, she frowned—how odd it was to have four beds instead of five. Jane had married Tristan that summer in an extravagant ceremony in France. Althea and Lily were bridesmaids, and forced to wear horrendous teal satin dresses and matching, large, floppy hats. She refused to have her picture taken—except for one picture—of which Sirius was a proud owner of a copy. Much to her embarrassment, Sirius showed her the picture earlier that afternoon. How he received the picture, he would not say, but Althea knew her name was Jane.

Althea threw herself onto her bed and sighed disappointedly. That bloody Snape!

"Anything?" Lily asked, sitting next to Althea.

Althea frowned as she stared at her burgundy canopy. "I did lose a button," she replied, tugging at her blouse.

"Yes, you did," Lily commented, looking at the open buttonhole. "Over the blouse or under?"

"Under," she sighed, looking at the open buttonhole…and that was all Lily would need to know.

Lily frowned sympathetically. "Althea, if anything, you should be happy."

"Why?" she asked, sitting up.

"He could have been a total bastard and tried to take advantage of you from the beginning," she explained, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"True," Althea replied, mustering a smile.

Lily rested her hand on Althea's shoulder. "You're something special to him," she said, smiling. "I notice—the way he looks at you during class, at mealtime, in the common room, in the library—"

"I understand," Althea interrupted, smiling. "I suppose I am lucky," she sighed and brought her knees to her chest.

Lily took her hand off Althea's shoulder, and placed her hands in her lap. "Any girl would be envious of you."

Althea recognized the hint of longing in her voice. "Even you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You always have a date for Hogsmeade."

"Especially me," Lily replied and sighed. "I hope I find someone like that."

"Maybe you have," she replied and winked.

Lily frowned. "_Not_ Potter."

"You're the one who mentioned his name."

Lily, with her finger, traced the gold thread embroidered in the burgundy duvet. "He has gotten better this year—his ego, I mean," she said quietly, continuing to trace the elaborate pattern.

Althea smiled. Sirius's talk with James earlier this year had worked—Lily had noticed. "Yeah, he has. He takes the responsibility of Head Boy seriously."

Lily's lips curved into a small smile. "He does, doesn't he?" she said sincerely, not looking up from Althea's duvet. "I thought he'd be absolutely horrible—abusing his position, but he hasn't," she added, bringing her knees to her chest. "He hasn't asked me out in ages."

Althea craned her neck to be face to face with Lily. "Do you want him to ask you out?"

Lily bit her bottom lip and continued to stare at her toes.

"Lily Evans," she said playfully, a smile emerging across her face. "Do you fancy James Potter?"

Lily remained quiet.

"James Potter, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team? The _detention serving_ James Potter? The James Potter who has irked you these past seven years?"

"Shut it!" Lily said, throwing herself to the side—covering her face to hide her blushing.

Laughing, Althea rested her hand on Lily's back. "Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd get upset," she said between laughs.

Lily began shaking, and Althea became nervous—she did not mean to upset her best friend.

"Lily, I'm sorry."

Lily rolled onto her back and filled the room with laughter. Althea stood from her bed and rested her hands on her hips.

"You made me feel terrible!" she said, feigning irritation, and threw a pillow at Lily's head.

"Hey!" Lily shouted laughingly, grabbing the pillow and throwing it back at Althea.

Althea playfully frowned and turned on her heel.

"Althea, where are you going? Althea?" Lily shouted as Althea walked toward the door.

"I'm going to find Potter," she teased as she reached the door.

"Althea—Althea don't," Lily pleaded.

Althea shook her head and started to walk through the doorway.

"Althea!"

Althea laughed mischievously as she ran down the girls' dormitory staircases. She ran as quickly as she could, as Lily's pleading grew louder. Running up the boys' dormitory staircases, she knew she would not divulge to James that Lily fancied him. Reaching the unlocked seventh-year dormitory door, she did not know what, if anything, she would say—she had not planned to take her joke this far. Althea heard Lily's footsteps and burst through the dormitory door. Lily soon followed and knocked Althea to the ground. Laughing, Althea struggled to free herself from Lily's grasp.

"No, you don't!" Lily yelled, grabbing Althea's legs.

Althea wiggled her legs and continued to laugh. Lily leapt on top of her and covered Althea's mouth.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Sirius asked laughingly, his arms folded, standing next to Lily and Althea.

Lily took her hand off Althea's mouth. "Althea's gone mad, that's all," she replied shortly, standing.

Sirius knelt down next to Althea. "I see," he said, rubbing his chin. "Probably wanted to see me naked again," he muttered and mockingly frowned. "She has this dreadful habit of lurking."

"That's it," Lily said, roughly grabbing Althea's upper arm. "She wanted to see you naked. Now let's go."

Althea ignored Lily's vigorous tugging. "What do you mean, 'lurking?'" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not the one with the Invi—"

Sirius quickly covered her mouth and shook his head.

She removed his hand from her mouth and continued, "I've never seen you naked."

"Fifth-year," he replied, looking around the room. "Right here, down two floors, actually."

"You weren't naked," she replied dismissively. "You had a towel."

"That you stole," he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"When I was out of the room," she replied, imitating Sirius. "I was more interested in catching Potter. Speaking of Potter, where is he?" she asked, looking around the room.

"He's in the bath."

"The bath," Althea replied, turning toward Lily.

Lily frowned. "Let's go," she said curtly, fiercely pulling Althea's arm.

Althea frowned and stood. "I'll still see you at eight, then?" she asked as Lily pulled her toward the door.

"Of course," he answered happily. "I'll tell James you were here," he added, grinning.

Lily let go of Althea's arm. "You will do no such thing," she said, walking toward Sirius.

Althea grabbed Lily's shoulders, and turned her around toward the door. "Don't worry, Lily. He won't tell," she said, her eyes narrowing on Sirius.

* * *

Althea sighed happily as readied herself for her date with Sirius. _I wonder where he'll take me tonight_, she thought, smoothing the skirt of her aqua colored minidress. She smiled to herself as she thought she might see his flat in London. Overlooking Diagon Alley, above Obscurus Books, Sirius lived in a small flat with the money his Uncle Alphard left him. The back of her neck prickled with warmth and the feeling traveled down her spine as she thought of spending the night in Sirius's flat. She looked around the room—Mary lay upon her stomach reading _Witch Weekly_.

"_Strigo conceptus_," she murmured, pointing her wand at her stomach. She winced at the small pinch.

She glanced at Mary, who turned the page of her glossy magazine. _Just in case_, she thought, applying a coat of lip-gloss to her bottom lip. She smiled weakly. She was ready and Sirius had been hinting for some time. She was sure they would have had sex that afternoon if Snape hadn't been lurking. Althea shivered—why would Snape watch them? _Such an odd little piece of filth_, she thought, smoothing her eyebrow.

At eight o'clock, Althea entered the common room to find Sirius, smiling, waiting at the bottom of the stairs. _He's wearing those jeans again_, she thought and gently bit her bottom lip as her eyes traveled up his jeans to his smiling face. Hopping off the last step, she leapt into his arms and laughed as he twirled her around the common room. Almost tumbling into the sofa by the fireplace, Sirius stopped and Althea, still laughing, purposefully fell backward onto the sofa.

"We're not going to spend our time here," he said, taking hold of her hand.

Althea stood, still holding his hand. "Where are we going?" she asked as the two walked toward the portrait entrance.

"Oh, somewhere," he said, a smile emerging across his face.

"Where?" she asked again as they walked through the portrait entrance.

Sirius stopped for a moment. "Can't anything be a surprise?" he sighed and kissed her hand. "It's somewhere special. Somewhere we've never been—well, you've never been before."

Althea's stomach twisted into a pleasant knot. _His flat_, she thought as the portrait door closed behind them. Althea quietly followed Sirius through the corridors and down the staircases that led out of Hogwarts. Once by the broom shed, Sirius produced two tickets from his coat pocket.

"Here," he said, smiling as he handed Althea a green ticket.

Althea gasped. "Orpheus!" she said and threw her arms around Sirius's neck. Sirius held her tightly to him. "This will be fantastic!" she said and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured, nuzzling her neck. "It's in London."

The pleasant knot returned. "London?" she replied, pulling away from. "Will I see your flat?"

Sirius inhaled a sharp breath. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "Although, it's not much…it's not Northfield."

"I don't care," she murmured and Sirius grinned.

"Right," he breathed, his fingers stroking the side of her face. "We best get to the concert."

_This is a perfect night_, Althea thought, closing her eyes. She rested her cheek against Sirius's back and slid her hands underneath his coat and t-shirt. She felt him chuckle against her.

"My hands are cold," she murmured and smiled.

"Right," he laughed and banked the broom to the left. "We're almost there."

Althea opened her eyes and looked below at the twinkling streetlamps. Ahead of them, long lines of cars slowly crept along bridges and it amazed Althea that no Muggle would spot two people flying upon a broom. _They just don't care_, she thought as Sirius had slowed the broom.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said and sighed.

Althea shrugged. "I prefer the country," she said and kissed Sirius's cheek.

"Thousands—millions of lights," Sirius said and shook his head. "How—how did they do all this?"

Althea did not reply, but smiled at Sirius's awe at Muggle development.

Suddenly, a jet of red light soared over Althea's shoulder and slashed Sirius's cheek. Althea screamed as blood splattered over the couple.

"Right!" Sirius yelled and leaned forward—the broom accelerating.

Althea's fingers tightly grasped Sirius' shirt as the two rolled and weaved through the night sky. Jets of purple, red, and blue light soared above and below them as Sirius quickly dove underneath a bridge. He quickly pulled up and Althea turned to see three Death Eaters still in pursuit. With one hand tightly gripping the back of Sirius' shirt, Althea fiercely slashed her wand through the air. The Death Eaters quickly waved their wands and three jets of gold light raced toward the pair.

"DIVE!" she shouted, tugging at his shirt.

Althea watched as the jets of gold light soared above their heads—just missing them.

"_PROTEGO_!" she roared, which jerked her backward.

"NO TIME FOR PROTECTIVE SPELLS!" Sirius roared. "MAIM THEM!"

Althea gasped. They were hundreds of feet into the air and if she cast anything but protective spells…. Althea gulped as she slashed her wand downward. _They want to kill me_.

"_CONFLARE_!"

A burst of orange erupted from Althea's wand and soared toward the middle Death Eater. Althea's eyes widened as the Death Eater's broom exploded and burst into flame—the Death Eater and fiery remnants of the broom violently spun toward the earth below.

"I might've just killed one!"

"They're trying to kill us!"

Althea continued to hurl hexes and curses at the two remaining Death Eaters, but they were expert fliers.

"_CONFRINGO_!"

"_INFLIGO_!"

The Death Eater at the right rolled upside down and hurled a curse toward Althea.

"_PROTEGO_!"

_God, it's like they play Quidditch_, she thought and growled another hex. The Death Eater to the left leaned forward and entered the Wronski Roll.

"They're Quidditch players!"

"Fuck!" Sirius breathed.

Althea screamed and ducked as a jet of green light narrowly missed Sirius' shoulder.

"Fly faster!" she yelled, lifting her head.

The two figures in hoods were closing upon them. Althea growled and shouted a curse at them, but the Death Eaters deftly flew out of the way.

"Hold on!" Sirius yelled and tilted his broom downward.

Immediately, the broom went into a nosedive—Althea tightly held on to Sirius as he lurched the broom to the right—the broom spinning violently. The Death Eaters quickly followed—Althea's heart beating wildly in her chest as Sirius weaved and dived through the busy London traffic. The two leaned forward upon his broom—the sounds and lights of London a busy blur as they raced through the streets. Althea looked behind them—the Death Eaters raised their wands.

"ROLL THE BLOODY BROOM!"

Within feet of the street, Sirius flew the broom into a tight roll.

"UP!" Althea shouted.

"I'M NOT A SEEKER!"

"HE IS! _DO IT!_"

The couple soared above the bus within feet of its passengers, but the one Death Eater was not as lucky and slammed into the side of the bus. Althea cringed as she heard the loud crunching noise. Sirius laughed. Althea growled at the last Death Eater in pursuit.

"Let me!" Sirius yelled and Althea fell backwards upon his broom. "_REDUCTO_!" he roared, thrusting his wand above Althea's face.

Althea watched as the jet of light connected with the Death Eater's broom. The Death Eater's broom splintered, sending the hooded figure spiraling through the air into the side of a lorry.

"Hit Wizards and Aurors will be here any minute," he said as Althea took in the scene behind them. She hoped no Muggles were hurt in those car accidents. "I know a safe place."

Sirius slowly flew the couple onto a street of terraced houses. It was a rather middle-class neighborhood with the houses overlooking the park across the street.

"Here," Sirius said quietly, offering his hand to Althea.

Althea stepped off the broom and frowned at Sirius. His cheek and shirt were covered in blood.

"I'll let you heal me shortly," he said and forced a smile. "Come on."

Althea held Sirius's hand as the two approached a terraced house that didn't seem to belong. It was impressive and beautiful, but Althea frowned at the silver serpent upon the door. _Where are we_, she wondered as she felt Sirius squeeze her hand. Sirius furrowed his eyebrows as he looked up at the house. He grimly sighed.

"It is the safest place," he whispered and stepped forward, placing his hand upon the door.

Althea heard the _clink_ and _clack_ of at least five locks unlatch. Slowly, the door opened into darkness. Sirius nodded for her to follow him. Althea interlocked her arm with Sirius, following him closely, as the two quietly crept through the hallway. The house was very well kept and the silver (Althea gulped) serpents gleamed in the moonlight. The house was very still except for the faint music Althea heard from upstairs.

"We should go," she whispered, tugging at his hand.

Sirius shook his head. "We're safe here," he whispered, pulling her forward. "My mother is asleep. She always falls asleep to Celestina Warbeck."

Althea's eyes widened. "Your mum—"

"Is a heavy sleeper," he whispered and kissed her cheek.

Althea winced as Sirius coaxed her forward. She would've rather they flew to Northfield. It was so large, Gran would never have known of their presence. She had a home in London, too. Sirius led Althea upon the staircase—the sound of Celestina Warbeck's voice growing louder. Althea made a face—her Gran listened to Celestina Warbeck. She shivered at the thought of Gran and Mrs. Black having so much in common. Althea turned her head and was face to face with the grotesque face of a beheaded house-elf. Althea gasped and Sirius quickly covered her mouth.

"Stay quiet," he whispered through gritted teeth.

Althea nodded and Sirius lowered his hand. He pulled her forward and the two made the agonizing climb to the uppermost landing. Taking out his penknife, Sirius ran the blade along the crack of the door. With a soft _click_ the door opened, and the smell of stale air wafted into the hall. He nodded for her to follow him. Althea felt a twinge of excitement as she entered Sirius's old bedroom. The furnishings reminded her of Northfield, and with Black family's prominence in the Wizarding world, she expected no less. Illuminated by the moonlight, her eyes drifted from the Gryffindor banners that plastered his walls (and she felt pride at such boldness in the face of his family) to posters of motorbikes and to—Althea's eyes widened—Muggle girls in bikinis. She felt herself blush. His room was as he left it—it looked as though he did not take much when he ran away. Althea tenderly pressed his hand in hers.

"This is the safest place for us…tonight," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My father put all sorts of charms upon the house. Sorry about the house-elves."

Althea shrugged—trying not to look at the girl in the bikini bent over a motorbike.

"Are you all right?" he asked, cupping her face with his hands.

Althea nodded—the wound upon Sirius's cheek continued to ooze. "You're still bleeding," she whispered and brought her wand to his cheek.

Sirius winced as the gash gradually mended itself. He rubbed his cheek and smiled. "Thank you," he said and frowned as he looked at Althea's dress. "I was never good with Cleaning Charms."

"It's all right," she said and noticed the photo of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

She walked forward and smiled at the photograph of their fifth year. Sirius stood behind Althea, making rude faces at her while she attempted to maintain her smile. _You could be so awful_, she thought, as the Sirius in the photograph attempted to look down her shirt.

"Not too bad for a Beater," she said, turning to face him.

"Are you sure that Death Eater was a Seeker?"

Althea nodded. "It was a perfect Wronski Roll," she said, stepping forward. "Only a professional could do that."

Sirius shook his head. "I reckon we don't know whom to trust anymore," he said, placing his hands upon her upper arms. "It's—"

Sirius quieted at the sound of small footsteps shuffling across the landing. He furrowed his brow and placed a finger to his lips. Althea held her breath as the shuffling grew closer. The two listened as the shuffling passed Sirius's bedroom door and quietly faded away.

"Probably that accursed house-elf," he said and sat upon his bed. He sighed bitterly as he gazed around his room. "God, how I hate this place."

Althea sat next to him and rested her head upon his shoulder.

"I never wanted you—"

"I don't care," she whispered, placing her hand upon this thigh.

Sirius held her tightly to him. "Sorry about Orpheus," he murmured and kissed her forehead.

Althea shrugged and Sirius reclined upon the bed. "They'll tour again."

Sirius stared up at the ceiling and groaned quietly. "I really do hate this house," he said, his hands balled into fists. "The smell, the bloody house-elf corpses on the walls…my dear mother forcing me to spend most of my time inside—couldn't go out and ride a bloody broom."

"Awful," she said quietly, reclining next to him. "Not in the park?"

Sirius laughed bitterly. "I was never allowed _in_ the park," he said, rolling onto his side. "It was _infested_ with Muggles."

She had taken for granted her house in the countryside. She was free to do whatever she wanted, and often spent her summer evenings flying around the estate. She especially enjoyed the warm summer evenings when she could fly low, letting her bare feet gently touch the tops of grass or skim across the lake.

"That's why most respectable wizard families live in the countryside," he replied as he slid his arm around her waist. "Like my grandfather."

Althea rested her arm on top of his. "Why did your family live here, then?" she asked, turning her face toward his. "I thought they hated Muggles?"

"To keep the Ministry under control, of course," he smirked. "They had to make sure the Ministry was following their guidelines."

"Their guidelines?" she repeated as she raised an eyebrow.

Sirius nodded.

"I don't like your family, Sirius."

"You wouldn't like them even more if the Muggle-hunting law had passed," he replied, stroking her side.

Althea lifted upper body onto her elbows. "Muggle-hunting? You're lying," she replied incredulously—her eyes narrowing.

"I'm not lying," he replied, sitting up onto his elbow. "My mother's cousin supported a bill to allow wizards to hunt Muggles."

Althea recognized the sincerity in his eyes—he was telling the truth. "That is absolutely terrible," she said, frowning, "and you say it so casually. How can you be so casual about something so horrible?"

Sirius frowned. "I have to," he replied, rolling onto his back. "Otherwise I'd go mad thinking about what a horrible family they are."

"I'm sorry."

Sirius smiled. "Don't be," he replied softly. "I have James, and Remus, and Peter—they're all the family I need…and I have you," he said and stroked her cheek.

Althea smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Althea rested her head upon the crook of Sirius' shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Goodnight, lovely," he murmured and kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight."

Althea felt Sirius sigh underneath her.


	34. Hogwarts, Winter Fête, December 1977

**Hogwarts, Winter Fête, December 1977**

"What will everyone think?" Lily asked nervously, as she turned from side to side in front of the mirror.

Althea rested her hand on Lily's shoulder. "I doubt they'll notice," she replied, staring at Lily's reflection in the mirror. Lily was beautiful in her dark blue gown—Althea felt homely next to her.

"I should cancel," she said, taking a deep breath. "James will understand, won't he?"

"No, he won't," she replied, frowning slightly. Althea applied another coat of lip-gloss and pursed her lips together. "Don't worry about what the other students think. I don't think they could get more shocked," she continued, handing Lily the vial of lip-gloss.

"Oh, I think they can," Lily said warily, turning toward Althea. "Anyway, Althea—is that mistletoe in your hair?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why yes it is," she said proudly. She had partially pulled back her hair and inserted sprigs of mistletoe and holly. "I also have holly in my hair," she added, pointing to the small red berries.

"To match that red dress, of course," Lily smirked.

Althea rested her hands on her hips. "It's _scarlet_," she emphasized, playfully rolling her eyes. "It's festive and matches my dress," she added, pointing to the sprigs.

Lily chuckled to herself as she walked toward her bed. "McGonagall or some other professor will make you take the mistletoe out of your hair," Lily said as she grabbed her purse from her bed.

"Why, would they want to kiss me?" she asked, walking toward the door. "I'll wait for you in the common room."

"Right," she breathed, nodding. "We've kept them waiting for fifteen minutes now."

_He's probably sitting there with his arms folded_, she thought, hurriedly walking down the stairs. _'What do you do up there, Althea? You don't look any different,' is what he'll say. Of course, he doesn't know that James told me before our first date, Sirius spent ten minutes in front of the mirror adjusting his clothes and combing his hair_. Althea slowed her pace as she entered the common room, and she frowned as she looked around the empty common room. _Usually Sirius is the one waiting on me_, she thought as her hand leisurely stroked the fireplace mantle.

Her last Winter Fête. Althea inhaled the fragrant scent of the pine branches that hung as boughs across the mantle. The common room was lavishly decorated for Christmas, and she smiled sadly—her last Christmas at Hogwarts. Where would she be next Christmas? St. Mungo's probably, an apprentice to some Healer—too busy to take time off for the holiday. She imagined herself next Christmas Eve or Christmas Day eating take-away with Sirius in his flat. _Sirius's flat_, she mused—her lips curving into a small smile. Messy, with very few pieces of furniture, and even fewer pots, pans, and dishes; however, he was proud of his little home. _Sirius where are you_, she thought impatiently, as she scraped chipping paint from the mantle with her fingernail.

The familiar, deliberate footsteps jarred her from her thoughts, and she turned to see a very handsomely dressed, beaming Sirius and a very nervous, very pale James. _I've never seen him this nervous, come to think of it, I've never seen him nervous_, she thought as Sirius walked toward her. James stayed behind, first shoving his hands in his pockets and then messing up his hair and smoothing it out again.

Sirius smiled as he took her hands in his. "You look amazing," he whispered and kissed her cheek.

"Thanks," she whispered into his ear. Althea noticed James continued to rise and to fall on the balls of his feet. "Is James all right?"

Sirius turned around and laughed, running his fingers through his hair. "He is in a sorry state," he replied, studying James. "However, he has been waiting for this moment for at least three years now."

Althea was about to reply, but stopped when Lily entered the common room. Sirius squeezed her hand as they watched James offer his hand to Lily as she stepped off the last step.

"You look beautiful—I mean," James said nervously and messed his hair.

Lily laughed nervously, and blushed. "Thank you," she replied and bit her bottom lip.

_Is Lily blushing…she is_, Althea thought, nudging Sirius's arm. Sirius turned to her, smiled, and kissed her cheek.

"Maybe, we should head to the Great Hall," Sirius said happily, motioning for Lily and James to lead.

The two nodded and led the group toward the portrait entrance. Althea rested her head against Sirius' shoulder as they walked toward the Great Hall. Two years ago, she would never have imagined herself attending the Winter Fête with Sirius Black, and now, James and Lily walked arm in arm ahead of them. _Amazing how things have changed for us_, she thought as Sirius gently stroked her back. The four briefly stopped at the entrance of the Great Hall as Sirius and James met with their friends.

"I didn't know Peter came with Ursula Rigg?" Lily asked quietly, nudging Althea's arm.

For Althea, it was a shock to see the tall, slender Ursula Rigg with the shorter, slightly pudgy Peter. She had to admire him for taking the prettiest seventh-year girl to the Winter Fête.

"I'm as surprised as you are. I thought she exclusively dated Ravenclaws," Althea replied as Iphigenia walked over to her. Althea smiled as Iphigenia stopped before them. "Where did you find that dress?" she asked, admiring Iphigenia's gown—a dark purple that highlighted her gray eyes.

Iphigenia blushed. "Thank you," she said quietly, looking at her dress. "My mum's a seamstress, and she made it for me."

Althea was impressed, and so was Lily. "Your mum's a seamstress? That is a fantastic dress," Lily said. "Absolutely gorgeous," she added, still looking appreciatively at the dress.

"Come on," Sirius said, taking Althea's arm. "Time for fun."

Althea and Sirius followed James and Lily as they entered the Great Hall. The Great Hall was decorated just as beautifully as previous celebrations. Sirius released her arm, and slid his arm around her waist as they followed Lily and James among the dancing students.

"You are, by the far, the most beautiful girl here," he whispered, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Althea smiled, but she did not smile at Sirius's comment. She was smiling at something more remarkable happening before her. The eyes, the whispers, the open mouths were directed toward Lily and James. _You're wrong, Sirius_, Althea thought happily, as they walked toward the table, _Lily is by far the most beautiful girl here_. Sirius pulled a chair out for Althea, she sat down, and Sirius quickly followed. James pulled a chair out for Lily, and he nervously sat next to Sirius. Sirius, smiling smugly, rested his arm on the back of Althea's chair as she gazed at the crowd of happy couples. One couple caught her eye in particular. They sat at the other side of the Great Hall—the girl animatedly chatting with the girl next to her, and the boy staring at Althea and Sirius. Althea shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the boy stared at them with the utmost longing—at least that it was what she thought it was.

Sirius leaned closer to her. "Are you all right?"

Althea did not take her gaze from the boy. "Your brother, he won't stop looking at us."

Sirius held her tighter to him and eyed his brother warily. "Don't pay attention to him," he whispered grimly. "He confronted me this morning."

Althea turned her gaze toward Sirius. "What did he confront you about?"

"It's not important," he replied, shaking his head. "We're here to have fun, right?" he added with forced cheerfulness. "I am with the most beautiful girl here."

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "No, it's obviously bothering you," she said, placing her hand on top of his. "It'll ruin—"

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh, right," she replied, stroking the top of his hand.

Sirius shook his head. "No, _here_, I mean. I don't want to talk about it _here_," he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers. "Let's go somewhere."

Althea nodded and stood with Sirius.

"Wait," James began as Sirius placed his hand upon Althea's back, "you're not—"

"We'll be back," Sirius said and winked at James—Althea felt her neck flush, "eventually."

Althea followed Sirius through the large crowd of dancing students out into the corridor. Why would Regulus confront Sirius? After Sirius had left home, he avoided his family—except for Andromeda, her Muggle-born husband, and their young daughter. Regulus had not spoken to Sirius for over two years, and Sirius avoided him—abandoning the close relationship they once shared as children. Regulus obediently believed in the poison his family touted as truth—a pure-blooded wizard was inherently superior in ability and station; those that believed differently were nothing more than weak and outcasts. Had Regulus finally realized the lies of his family? Althea doubted Regulus had realized as Sirius opened the door to an empty classroom. She sat on the large oak desk, watching as Sirius closed the door and paced the floor before her.

"Sirius, please sit down," she said as Sirius had stopped pacing.

Sirius ignored her plea, and ran his fingers through his hair—shaking his head. "She just doesn't get it—_he_ doesn't get it," he muttered, dropping his hand to his side.

Althea stood and rested her hands on his upper arms. "Your brother?" she asked softly, gently massaging his upper arms.

Taking her hands in his, he led her over to the desk. "Regulus had a talk with me today," he began as he sat down. Althea sat next to him, holding his hands in her lap. "He gave me a letter my mother had written to me. She said all would be forgotten if I leave you, my friends, come back home, and take my rightful place."

"Rightful place?"

Sirius looked toward the ceiling and sighed. "As her son," he replied bitterly, his eyes returning to hers—his expression dark. "She said that things have changed and I'm _needed_," he explained and shook his head. "When have I ever been needed?" He paused and chewed the inside of his cheek. Althea remained silent as he continued, "He said that I was being unfair."

"Unfair—to whom?"

"Unfair to you," he sighed, standing. Althea watched him as he stood and leaned his hands on the desk. "I'm putting you in danger," he said, and shook his head as he laughed mirthlessly. He vigorously pushed himself from the desk and stood with his fists clenched at his sides, frowning. "He said that if I loved you, and wanted you to live, I should stick to my own kind," he continued, his body tensing with rage. "My own kind!" he growled and punched the blackboard with his fist. Althea gasped and covered her mouth as the blackboard cracked around his fist—pieces falling to the floor and shattering at his feet.

Althea stood. "Sirius—your hand—it's bleeding," she said, reaching for his cut and bloodied hand.

"Don't worry about it, all right," he muttered, roughly removing his hand from hers.

Althea bit her lip as she gazed at Sirius; brooding, looking ahead of him, his injured hand at his side—the blood trickling and dripping off his hand and splashing to the floor.

"Sirius," she said as she slid her arms around his waist, resting her face against his shoulder, "Sirius what did he mean by wanting me to live?"

Sirius rested his hands over hers. "According to them, we don't deserve to live because of our relationship."

"They want to kill me anyway," she replied and held him tighter.

Sirius released her hands, turned around, and brought his hands up to her face. "Althea, do you understand what we're up against?" he whispered, staring sadly into her eyes.

Of course, she knew what they were up against, but something about Sirius's expression frightened her. Why had Regulus spoken with Sirius, when he had not spoken with him in two years? Why now? Why would his mother send him a letter?

"What did he say to you?" she whispered, stroking the side of his face. "Did he say they were going to kill us?"

Sirius nodded and buried his face in her shoulder.

Inhaling a deep breath to steady herself, she asked, "When?"

"On Christmas Holiday," he replied, holding her tighter. "Your grandmother is safe, but we can't leave Hogwarts…not yet, at least."

Althea caught her breath and continued to hold him as he kept his face buried in her shoulder. He was not crying—she had never seen him cry, and she thought that maybe he was incapable of crying. Periodically, he would tighten and then loosen his embrace, as if he needed help squashing something. _Maybe he wants to end this_, she thought, closing her eyes.

"Sirius," she began, stroking her fingers through his hair. "Do you want to end this?" she asked quietly, the bitter tasting words lingering in her mouth.

Sirius pulled away from her and rested his uncut hand against her cheek. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know, maybe because you realize what it means," she said quietly, looking at the floor. "What we're up against."

"I've always known what it means," he said, lifting her face. "It's just a bit unsettling to know how quickly my family would send us to the Death Eaters."

"I thought they weren't your family?" she reminded quietly.

Sirius smiled sadly. "Of course, they're not," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Anyway, Dumbledore assured me of our safety."

"How? He couldn't keep us safe last February," she replied, resting her fingertips against his chest. "We were almost killed."

"I wouldn't let that happen," he replied, resting his forehead against hers. "Dumbledore already knew of their plans this time…we have to trust him," he explained and kissed her lips.

Althea sighed as she pulled away from him. "Trust him," she murmured ruefully, sitting on the desk. Sirius sat next to her, mending his hand with his wand. "Honestly, let me do this," she said, taking hold of his hand. Althea pointed her wand at the gash—the blue light slowly closing the jagged skin. "You were never meant to be a Healer," she remarked and kissed his mended hand.

Sirius examined his hand as he flexed and extended his fingers. "No, that's why I have you," he replied and kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

Althea frowned and stared at her jeweled shoes. "Will it ever get better?" she asked and looked up to observe his reaction.

"I honestly don't know," he sighed as directed his wand to the broken blackboard and bloodied floor. "I believe they will be able to stop him, but when…I don't know."

Frustrated, Althea slammed her fist on the desk. "I'm tired of this," she said, staring at a crack in the floor before her. "Doesn't anyone see how absolutely ridiculous this is? They want to kill me because Grand was a Muggle? How can that bloody make you a better witch? Look at Jane, she was as pure-blood as they get and she could barely brew tea let alone a potion. She made the kettle explode and not to mention countless cauldrons. Do you remember the day McGonagall took her wand away for the entire class?"

Sirius threw his head back, laughing—the laughter echoed off the classroom walls. "I do remember and you're absolutely right," he laughed and kissed her cheek.

"I know I'm right," she replied, folding her arms. "That's why we're going back to the Great Hall. I won't let them rule my life."

Sirius smiled. "I was looking forward to dancing with you," he replied happily, taking her hand in his and he began twirling her around the classroom. "Do you remember last time?" he asked, waltzing her around the teacher's desk.

"I remember," she replied, smiling. "I told you that I despised you."

Sirius frowned. "More like ardently despised," he corrected, "and how those words tore at my heart."

"More like your pride," she remarked as they rounded the corner of the classroom.

"I was madly in love with you," he replied as he quickly spun her.

"You were not," she said laughingly.

"Yes, I was. I fell in love with you the moment you gave me the Muggle sweets on the Hogwarts Express," he said, smiling.

"Liar," she teased and laughed.

"Anyway, I was madly in love with you—still am, too." He noticed the mistletoe in her hair and began to laugh.

"What—you don't like my mistletoe?" she asked innocently.

"No, I love it," he replied and kissed her lips. "I want some though," he said, pulling a sprig from her hair and sticking it behind his ear.

Althea and Sirius returned to the Great Hall, and she was glad no one noticed their return. Weaving their way through the dancing couples, Althea and Sirius found James and Lily on the dance floor. Their eyes closed, Lily's head rested against James' shoulder—his head resting atop her head. Althea squeezed Sirius's arm and smiled.

"They're dancing so closely," Sirius whispered, smiling.

"I'm jealous," she sighed and winked.

Sirius slipped his arm around her waist and guided her to a spot next to James and Lily. "You never have to be jealous," he replied, holding her close to him.

Althea rested her head on Sirius' shoulder and closed her eyes. "Really," she murmured, inhaling Sirius's scent. "You smell lovely."

Althea could feel Sirius chuckle against her. "It's the soap I always use."

"I know, but you smell lovely," she murmured, holding him tighter.

"Please, part you two," Professor Vector warned and Althea opened her eyes.

Sirius laughed his bark-like laugh, which jolted Althea from her drowsy state. "Whatever you say, Professor," he replied, slightly pulling away from Althea.

Althea lifted her head and frowned. "Bloody chaperones always have to ruin our fun," she remarked, watching as Professor Vector tapped James on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, they'll move out to the courtyard soon," he replied, and smiled. "Oh, already they're going—catching some poor couple snogging, no doubt."

Althea turned her head in the direction of the courtyard and sighed wistfully. "I so wanted to go into the courtyard," she replied, turning toward Sirius. "Flitwick decorated it with fairies."

Sirius smiled. "Ah, but we won't be alone out there," he replied and winked. "Oh, don't frown. I know of a better place I want to take you tonight," he said, caressing her cheek.

"Tonight?" she repeated happily and Sirius nodded. "Where?"

"It's a surprise," he teased as he held her closer.

"A surprise," she repeated, resting her head against his shoulder. "Your surprises are always so odd."

"Odd? I hope it isn't odd," he laughed nervously, resting his head atop hers. "I pray it isn't odd…actually."

The chaperones returned, and throughout the rest of the night, McGonagall or another professor would tap Sirius's shoulder to have them separate. The notion that a professor would tell Sirius what to do caused Sirius to laugh and Althea would hold him even tighter. McGonagall threatened to give Althea and Sirius detentions for the mistletoe, but Dumbledore intervened. He thought it amusing and even asked for a sprig for himself. Althea sighed disappointedly as the band announced the last song.

"What's the matter?" Sirius whispered, stroking her back.

"It's the last song…. I was having so much fun," she murmured, as her fingertips massaged the back of his head.

Sirius kissed her lips. "Our fun hasn't ended. There is still the surprise."

"Oh, the surprise," she replied and giggled.

"Don't laugh, it's a wonderful surprise…or at least I think so," he whispered, ticking her side. "Let's follow James and Lily," he added as the song ended.

"Why?" she asked, pulling away from him. "I don't want to see them kiss."

"That's precisely why we're going to follow them—to make sure they kiss," he replied and winked.

"You and James—"

"No, not James and me," he interrupted, taking her hand as they exited the Great Hall. "You gave me the idea," he added, smiling, and pointed to the mistletoe in his hair.

The two quietly followed James and Lily as they walked down a lonely corridor. Althea and Sirius, kneeling, hid behind a rather large statue of two wizards. In one hand, Sirius held his wand and in the other, the mistletoe, ready to float it above James and Lily as they talked.

"I had a lovely time tonight," Lily said quietly, shyly looking at James.

"Yeah," James muttered, ruffling the back of his hair.

Lily smiled sweetly, removed his hand from the back of his hair, and with her hand, attempted to flatten it. She laughed as the part she had just flattened jumped up again, and James laughed as well.

"Yeah, it sort of does that," he said, screwing up his eyes at his hair.

"I like it," Lily replied, moving closer.

"You do?" James asked, a smile emerging across his face.

Lily nodded.

Althea grabbed Sirius's arm as James and Lily kissed. Sighing contentedly, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"See, we didn't need the mistletoe," she whispered as Sirius slipped his arm around her.

"No, we didn't," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "Come on, I want to take you somewhere," he added, standing.

"Where?" Althea asked as Sirius helped her stand.

"Somewhere," he answered, smiling.

"I hope it's not too far," she remarked as they quietly left the corridor.

"It's not," he said, stopping in front of the portrait of Agnes Dunwen. With his wand, Sirius tapped on the portrait. "It's just a little farther."

_Just a little farther_, Althea thought as she climbed the circular staircase. _Where in Hogwarts is he leading me_? At the top of the staircase was another corridor that ran perpendicular to the staircase. Sirius turned left and Althea followed. A small distance from the staircase, Sirius stopped and tapped his wand three times against the wall. Suddenly, the wall moved to the right, revealing another passageway or room—she could not tell. Sirius held her hand as they entered the dark abandoned room.

Sirius cleared his throat and, with his wand, illuminated the cobweb-covered candles. Althea's eyes attempted to adjust to the warm colors of the room, and soon, she gazed around the room, realizing it was an unused professor's quarters.

"Althea?" Sirius said softly, standing a few feet from Althea.

"Yes?" she said quietly, eyeing the old four-poster bed.

For a moment, Althea studied the flickering movements of the shadows cast in the candlelight. _So_, she thought and bit her bottom lip, _this is the surprise_. At the thought of what was to come, adrenaline jolted through her abdomen, causing her torso to prickle and radiate with warmth. Taking a deep gulp of air, she turned toward Sirius, who smiled weakly.

Sirius took a step forward. "I thought—well—well, I thought—"

"Okay," she breathed, looking into Sirius's eyes.

Sirius's eyes widened slightly. "Okay?" he repeated and took a deep gulp of air. "You mean…you want to?"

Althea nodded slowly, clasping her trembling hands behind her. _Don't let him see that you're nervous_, she thought as her heart thumped wildly against her chest.

Sirius let out a small laugh of surprise. "Right," he said hoarsely.

Fighting her nervousness, Althea smiled, and Sirius caressed her cheek—her warm skin tingling underneath his fingertips.

* * *

Sunlight reflected off the newly fallen snow, cascading through the stained glass window, woke Althea from her sleep. She hesitated from opening her eyes, recognizing the different feel of the bedclothes against her naked skin. She was not in the soft bedclothes of her dormitory bed. A heaviness shifted next to her, warm skin brushing against warm skin, she felt a pleasurable, knowing twinge in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes closed, she thought of Sirius's handsome face illuminated by the candlelight, his deepened voice, his skin against her lips, his scent, his taste. Of course, it was fumbling about, giggling, and did not last as long as Althea would have wanted it to, but she relished in their new intimacy—in the delicious ache it invoked—to be in those moments, the only person that mattered…to be what the other desired the most. She stretched her legs, heavy and relaxed. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see, within inches of her face, Sirius smiling at her.

Sleepily, Althea smiled. "Good morning," she whispered, brushing the hair from his eyes.

Sirius kissed the tip of her nose. "Morning."

"How long have you been awake?"

"I just woke up," he said, scratching the side of his face.

Sirius sat up and stretched—arching his back as his hands reached for the ceiling. Althea noticed a crescent moon tattoo upon his shoulder blade. She raised her hand and traced its outline with her fingertip.

"Is that what you chose?"

"What?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Your tattoo."

"Oh," he said, reaching to touch his shoulder blade.

"I saw it this summer, but I never asked you—"

"_Oh_. Didn't I tell you?"

Althea shook her head.

"James nicked the books from McGonagall's quarters," he said, attempting to look over his shoulder at his tattoo. "I was never much for Potions."

"So, you didn't use my father's journal?" she asked, sitting up.

Sirius grinned as he looked upon her. "No," he murmured.

Althea sighed happily, flinging herself upon the bed. Sirius collected those ingredients for her and her alone. _You're so good to me_, she thought, staring dreamily at the ceiling. Suddenly, Sirius with an eager grin pounced atop her. Althea giggled as he fiercely kissed her neck, an excited twinge developed in her stomach, as she wanted him once more.

Propping himself up, he looked down upon Althea, and said, "I want to spend more mornings like this."

Althea smiled. "I'd like that."

"You would?"

Althea nodded.

"Marry me."

Althea's face paled. "Marry?" she repeated breathlessly and wide-eyed.

"Yes, marry me," he replied laughingly and kissed her cheek.

Althea swallowed a breath. "But—but I thought you wanted to become an Auror?"

"Not anymore—there are other ways of battling Dark wizards," he answered, smiling to himself. "And what does an Auror have anything to do with you marrying me?"

Althea took another deep breath. "But—but what about what I want?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "I—I don't know what you expect of a wife, but—but I won't be around much. The first year at St. Mungo's is exceptionally difficult, don't you remember?"

"Of course, I remember," he replied dismissively. "There's no change—you're still going into that program."

Althea sat up. "But we—we're _so young_," she added, furrowing her eyebrows. "You said at least thirty. _I_ said at least thirty."

Sirius laughed. "I didn't mean get married _today_," he replied, continuing to laugh. "If you want to say no, just say so."

"No—no—wait," she said, grabbing Sirius's forearms as he shook from laughter. "What I mean—oh, never mind," she said and sighed, shaking her head. "I suppose you can tell our grandchildren of how I made a complete idiot of myself when you asked me to marry you."

Sirius stopped laughing and his mouth slowly contorted into a smile. "Grandchildren? Are you accepting my proposal?"

Althea nodded.

"A nod is not an acceptable answer," he teased and winked.

Althea sighed. _What am I doing_, she thought as she stared at a grinning Sirius. _He looks so happy and I do love him. And last night…I have no regrets. Look at him…he looks so sincere. You love him, and that is all that matters_, she thought, and inhaled deeply.

"Yes."

Sirius let out a small noise of triumph as he pulled Althea closer to him. "We don't have to marry straight away," he said excitedly. "It would be too difficult, I think. No, we could wait until after the war."

"After?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "It would give us something to look forward to—"

"To fight for?"

Sirius nodded.

"You've thought this through, haven't you?"

Sirius shook his head. "I love you, you love me, what is there to think about?"

"Nothing—"

"Right," he said and tenderly kissed her lips. "Nothing else matters."


	35. Hogwarts, June 1978

**Hogwarts, June 1978**

Althea rested her head against Sirius' stomach, as the two lay under the beech tree. Althea's gaze drifted further and further between the twisting branches; she, mesmerized by the rays of sunlight that peeked through its dark green leaves. N.E.W.T.s were over, and they would receive the results some time next week. Althea did not care if she did well—she was relieved those exams were over—nastily exhausting was a great understatement. For late afternoon, the grounds of Hogwarts were exceptionally quiet. Where were the other students? It was such a beautiful late afternoon in June, and Althea wondered why more students were not out on the school grounds. _If they took their N.E.W.T.s, they're probably in their dormitories crying_, she thought, as Sirius stroked the top of her head. _Or writing their parents preparing them for poor results_. Despite the ill feeling of academic failure, Althea did not truly have to worry about poor results. She was already accepted into the Healer Program of St. Mungo's. In one month, she would begin the intense didactic training, and in three months, she would begin her on-site training. Sirius still had no idea what he wanted to do after Hogwarts—capturing dark wizards, curse-breaking in Egypt, or researching as an Unspeakable. _I've given him enough ideas_, she thought, taking his hand from her head. _He's so elusive on the matter, though_.

"Have you thought anymore about what you want to do?" she asked, tracing the lines of his palm with her index finger.

"About traveling? It sounds fantastic, but I think I'm needed here," he answered, taking his hand from hers and resting his hand across her chest.

"Oh," she murmured, frowning slightly. "You've found something, then?"

There was some hesitancy in his voice as he answered, "Well, yes."

"What?"

Sirius shifted underneath her. "Dumbledore—"

"Dumbledore?"

"It's something," he said and sighed. "Anyway, I want to show you something," he continued and reached into his pocket. Althea heard the crinkling and rustling of paper. "Here, read this," he said, holding the paper over her eyes.

Althea blinked, attempting to focus on the closely held paper. "'Muckle Black Tyke Spotted in Local Village,'" she read, frowning. "Sirius?"

"Read on," he replied, smiling.

Althea sighed and continued to read; however, soon she was overcome with laughter. "'Hubert Roch was not the only member of the village to spot the _shaggy black dog_,'" she said, stifling her laughter, sitting up. "Sirius, you didn't," she admonished, attempting to halt her smile.

"Read on," he replied, continuing to smile.

"'Hertha Gaudurge disputes reports that this dog is malevolent. Mrs. Gaudurge reports the dog followed _one of her teenage daughters home_—'"

Sirius quickly grabbed the paper from her hands. "You weren't supposed to read that," he muttered, folding the paper.

A wicked smile crept across Althea's face. "No, I want to read it," she said, attempting to retrieve the paper.

"No, no, you don't want to read it," he replied, stuffing the paper into his pocket.

Althea leaned over and reached into his pocket, causing Sirius to laugh as he attempted to wrestle her hand from his pocket. Triumphantly, Althea retrieved the paper and smiled as she continued to read.

"Where was I?" she murmured, quickly rereading the first half of the article. "Ah, here I was. 'Mrs. Gaudurge reports the dog followed one of her teenage daughters home as she returned from the market. She stated that it had a loveable quality and almost keen understanding of humans. She, like the local magistrate, believes this dog to be a stray,'" she finished, her eyes narrowing on Sirius.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair and laughed.

"Teenage daughters, Sirius?" she replied, attempting to sound hurt. "How many others were there?" she asked, forcing her bottom lip to tremble. "After all these years, and you give it all up for a scratch behind the ears?" she asked and covered her face with her hands.

Sirius rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry—I didn't know you would react this way," he replied softly, resting his forehead against her hands. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't let them scratch me behind my ears."

Shaking from laughter, Althea uncovered her face and fell back onto the soft grass. "I'm going to buy you a leash," she teased, staring at Sirius who was still making sense of the situation.

"I resent that!" Sirius said, horribly attempting to suppress a smile. He started to tickle Althea as the two wrestled and laughed. Suddenly, Sirius stopped, looking up, he whispered, "Snivellus."

Althea sighed. "Sirius, don't do anything," she whispered, as Sirius continued to hold down her hands, and stared mischievously at the approaching Snape.

Sirius grinned. "Come on, say something about your knickers."

"_I will not_."

"Come on," he whispered, grinning naughtily. "It'll be hilarious."

Althea rolled her eyes. "Sirius, get your hand _out_ of my knickers!" she yelled, staring at Sirius. "There, happy?" she whispered as Sirius laughed.

"You should see his face," Sirius whispered in her ear.

"Disgusting feral behavior," Snape sneered, staring at the two disapprovingly.

Sirius stopped laughing into Althea's ear, and raised his head. "What's that Hogwarts' oldest virgin?"

"_Sirius_!" Althea admonished, pinching his side.

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from a blood traitor and that Muckblood tart—"

Sirius immediately leapt off Althea and stood—his wand pointed at Snape. "LEAVE HER ALONE!" he roared, advancing on Snape.

Althea sat up and watched as Sirius and Snape sized up each other.

"Your mum thought a Muggle was good enough," Sirius said, his wand held steadily at Snape.

"Oh God," Althea said, barely audible.

Instead, Snape's eyes bore a gleam of triumph. A twisted smile contorted across his face. "You won't be so apt to defend her if you saw this," he said, producing a folded note from his robe pocket.

Snape threw the folded note at Sirius's feet, and Althea covered her mouth. It was a letter in her handwriting, but how did Snape have a letter in her handwriting? Sirius, not taking his eyes off Snape, knelt and picked up the letter. Unfolding the letter, Sirius's face drained of color. Throwing the letter to the ground, he charged Snape.

"I SHOULD HAVE LET HIM KILL YOU!" he shouted, knocking into Snape.

"STOP THIS!" Althea shouted, pointing her wand at the two. "_Stupefy_! _Stupefy_!" she yelled, pointing her wand at Sirius and then at Snape.

Althea timidly walked to the letter and picked it up from the ground. Shaking, she opened the letter and gasped. Althea covered her mouth as she read of her most intimate secret: she lost her virginity to Remus. She looked to Snape—how many others knew? She was too scared to feel the rage she should have felt toward Snape—if others knew of this, her life would be ruined. She had been so naïve to think such things did not matter, but a week of shadowing at St. Mungo's in Creature-Induced Injuries in May opened her eyes to the reality of a woman who willingly slept with a werewolf—she was as good as bitten. She had never come out right in the letter to say that Remus was a werewolf, but it was heavily implied. That Sirius would love her and choose to marry her, she believed, was a testament to his loyalty and his forward-thinking…the woman visiting in St. Mungo's was not as lucky. She thought to Iphigenia and her eyes widened as she ran her fingers through her hair. She never wanted to upset her. Walking over to Snape, she revived him, and watched him as he scrambled to his feet.

"H-h-how did you get this?" she asked, tightly holding the letter.

Snape laughed. Althea had never heard Snape laugh, and his voice contorting in laughter sickened her. "I'm not telling you," he sneered, brushing himself off.

Althea charged at him. "How did you get this letter?" she screamed, holding the letter above her head.

Snape sneered.

"You tell me now," she began, narrowing her eyes, "or I will strike you where you stand!"

"I took it," he said and looked to Sirius upon the ground. "I knew it would be of some use to me."

Althea growled and raised her wand.

"If you curse me I will tell all that you slept with a werewolf!"

Althea stopped.

"He deserved it, Morrigan," Snape said and sneered at Sirius. "Black is a monster! And that monster tried to kill me again—_just like fifth-year_."

"Shut up!"

"You shouldn't be so apt to defend such a monster—he is nothing more than a murderer!"

"Lies!"

"Lies, Morrigan?" Snape slowly grinned—revealing his yellow, uneven teeth—relishing that he would be the one to tell her of Sirius's murderous predilections. "Your boyfriend sought to murder me—"

"_No_!"

"Your _boyfriend_ sent me down the Whomping Willow to find Lupin—_as a werewolf_!"

"He wouldn't—"

"He told me how to access the passage under the Whomping Willow—"

"Get out—"

"Thought it a joke—"

Althea clutched her fists tighter to keep herself from vomiting. "Get out!"

Snape did not move.

"GET OUT!" she screamed, pointing her wand a Snape. "Or else I wake him and let him kill you!"

Snape looked as if he tasted something awful. "You're disgusting," he sneered. "He deserves you."

Snape turned on heel and walked away—his black robes billowing behind him. Althea looked at Sirius and then at the letter in her hand. She could destroy it. She could destroy it and could attempt a Memory Charm to remove the incident with Snape. Sirius knew about her relationship with Remus from the letter Snape stole. He loved her—this was wounded pride. She revived Sirius.

"Give me that letter," Sirius said coldly, his face ashen.

Althea handed him the letter and he roughly grabbed it. Biting the inside of his cheek, he read the letter—his jaw tightening as he read. Crumpling the letter in his hand, he looked at Althea with a mixture of betrayal, sadness, and repulsion.

"Is this true?" he said, stepping forward. "This is your handwriting, isn't it?"

"Yes, but—"

"But nothing. You lied to me."

Althea's body jerked forward—she never lied to him. He received that letter. "I never lied to you! You—you told me you got that letter," she said, her body starting to tremble.

"I never received this letter!"

"Yes—yes you did! Last year! I asked you! The day your Uncle Alphard gave you the money! You said you received my letter!" she explained, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

"I didn't receive _this_ letter!" he snarled, holding the letter close to her face.

"So—so you didn't know about…" she said trailing off, covering her mouth as she cried.

"How could you do this to me?" he asked and sniffed. "I trusted you. I wanted…"he began, but shook his head. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

Althea closed her eyes, tears falling to her cheeks as she nodded. "We—we promised we wouldn't tell…. It was the night before a full moon, and it happened…once. I—I thought because you and Rosmerta, it—it would be all right to tell you, but—but I couldn't tell you…. I was too scared to tell you…. I knew it would end like this," she said quietly, rubbing her upper arms. "I hated what you'd think of me."

"Of course, it would end like this!" he growled within inches of her face. "How many more?"

Althea backed away, but Sirius walked forward. "He—he's the only one besides you," she said and bit her lip.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. "I have given everything up for you!" he shouted, pulling at his hair. "This is how you repay me?"

"Repay you?"

"I should have let him kill Snivellus!"

"It's true, then? You were going to let Remus bite Snape!" she yelled, finding her voice. "How could you?"

"Don't lecture me!"

Althea stood steadfast. "You are horrible," she said, shaking her head. "How—how could you want to kill another person? Remus, Sirius, Remus! Your best friend! He's never hurt you! He had no friends before you—none! How could you use him like that?"

Sirius shook his head. "All you care about is Remus," he said callously. "I've always come second—haven't I? And always will…but maybe I'm third, or fourth, or even fifth—"

"Sirius, I love you," she said, not bothering to wipe her tears away anymore. "You know that I love you…. I was too afraid to tell you, but Lily said that I should. She—she convinced me to write the letter—to be honest to you…. I couldn't tell you in person; I didn't want to see your face as I told you…. I'm sorry."

"I should have let you hit the Whomping Willow."

Althea shuddered. "Sirius, how can you say that?" she asked, her body feeling like it was collapsing upon itself.

"Easy," he sighed, folding his arms. "It was the only time someone else couldn't have saved you."

"You didn't mean that!" she said and bit her lip—the blood seeping into her mouth.

"I meant it," he answered, his voice unnaturally shaky. "Whore."

Althea gasped—her stomach twisting and heaving upon itself. "But _you_! What about _you_? Rosmerta!" she reminded, her throat aching.

Sirius laughed mirthlessly. "I was honest!" he replied, throwing his hands up into the air.

"It's because of what he is, isn't it?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes.

Sirius did not answer, but fiercely bit the inside of his cheek.

"A werewolf."

An odd shiver passed across Sirius's face.

"You know what is said are lies," she said a warm breeze caught her hair and she quickly smoothed the loose black curls from her face. "There is no proof—"

"Then why lie to me?" he said through gritted teeth.

"He's your friend," she said and blinked—her eyes raw from tears. "I was scared because he's your friend."

He brought his right hand to the back of his head, ruffling the back of his hair. "Honestly, go away. I'm done with you."

"Done?"

Sirius's demeanor instantly cooled. "We're _over_, Morrigan," he replied with an air of boredom. "You aren't that bright of a witch, are you? _We're over_," he continued, and rolled his eyes. "Probably used your _only_ talent to get accepted into the Healer Program."

"Son of a bitch," she replied—a part of her grief transforming into anger.

"As if I hadn't heard that before," he remarked, folding his arms. "Why are you still standing here?"

Althea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If their relationship was over, she wanted to hurt him more than he could ever hurt her. She disgusted him. He was no different than Jane's mother, Erlenmeyer, Snape, or the letters to the editor in the _Daily Prophet_ that called upon urgent handling of the werewolf problem. He was as closed-minded as his awful family—that awful family that thought it amusing to chuck Knuts and Sickles at her feet in Diagon Alley. To know Sirius Black could break up with her after all they had been up against…a shiver went down her spine. Would she have been so callous with such a revelation? She opened her eyes, looked over in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, sighed, and returned her gaze to Sirius.

"During our game against Slytherin, I'm so glad that you missed that Bludger and it hit me," she lied, looking him directly in his grey eyes. "Otherwise, I'd have that abomination growing inside me."

Sirius's face quickly paled—his mouth contorted, but no words came out.

"Yes, Sirius, I was pregnant," she said, refusing to look away from his eyes.

Sirius inhaled a slow, ragged breath. "My…" he trailed off and swallowed hard.

Althea nodded solemnly. "Three months from the Winter Fête," she replied, witnessing the cool demeanor crack.

"God," Sirius whispered—horrified—covering his mouth with a shaking hand.

Althea roughly removed the amethyst ring from her hand. "Snape was right about you, Sirius," she said, placing the ring in his sweaty hand. "You are a monster."

Althea did not look back as she walked toward the castle. Her head bent, her eyes blurred with tears, she ran up the staircases that led to Gryffindor Tower. Breathless, she hoarsely shouted the password to the Fat Lady and stormed upstairs to the seventh-year girls' dormitory. Althea flung herself upon her bed and violently shook from sobbing. _You are so bloody stupid_, she thought as she tightly clutched her pillow. _You actually believed he loved you. He loved you that much that he could overcome his stupid pride. That stupid pride! That stupid pride that paraded you round as if you were some sick trophy! 'Not now, Althea.' How many times did you hear him say that? Oh, but if a Slytherin were round, he'd take every opportunity to kiss you_, she thought, twisting her pillow in her hands. _I know what sort of priority I was now—arrogant son of a bitch! To care more about his ego than me_!

Althea felt heaviness to her right as Lily reclined next to her and wrapped her arms around her shaking back. "What did Sirius do?" she whispered and kissed the back of Althea's head.

It was Lily. Lily convinced Althea to write the letter—to explain to Sirius about Remus. Sirius would understand—Lily was sure of it. It would only wound his pride. Obviously, Sirius loved his pride more than he ever loved Althea.

Sniffing back her tears, Althea pushed Lily off her as she sat up on her bed. "It's your fault," she said, her shaky hands roughly rubbing her eyes. "Tell Sirius all about Remus and he'll understand—don't touch me!"

Lily frowned as she retracted her hand. "But you did—last year—"

"I thought I did!" she snapped, bringing her knees to her chest. "I thought he knew! I thought he had the letter!" Althea rested her forehead against her knees and started to cry once more.

This time Althea slightly shrugged her shoulders as Lily placed her hand on Althea's back. "He didn't have the letter?" she asked quietly, rubbing Althea's back.

"No," she forced herself to say as she continued to cry into her knees.

"Oh God," she whispered, resting her head on Althea's shaking shoulder. "How?"

Althea coughed as the mucus drained into her throat. "Snape—Snape had the letter…. Sirius never had the letter. He showed it to Sirius by the lake," she explained and looked up. Panic-stricken, her eyes widening, she turned toward Lily. "Lily, Lily, how do you think he got the letter? How many others know?" she asked and covered her mouth.

"I—James!" Lily exclaimed and the two girls looked toward the closing fireplace.

Taking a deep breath, he rested his hand against the mantel. "What the bloody hell is going on?" he asked angrily, looking from the floor to Althea.

Althea caught her breath.

"James, leave her alone. She's upset," Lily replied sternly, placing her arm around Althea. "Come back later."

James slammed his fist against the mantel and walked forward. "I just had to stun my best friend, and all I could hear as I kept him from killing Moony was _your name_, Althea," he explained and folded his arms as he stood before the two.

Althea noticed James clutched the letter in his fist, and covered her mouth—praying she would not go into hysterics as her body started to heave.

"What did you do?"

"_Leave her alone_," Lily replied through clenched jaws. "_Go away_."

"No," Althea whispered, nodding toward James's fist. "He has the letter."

James looked from the two to his hand. "Sirius shoved this in my hand," he said, smoothing out the letter. "Said it would explain everything."

Althea took a deep, shaky breath as he read the crumpled letter.

"Unbelievable," he murmured, shaking his head. "You wrote _this_ in a letter? Of all the—"

"Shut it!" Lily warned, standing.

"No!" James replied heatedly, furrowing his eyebrows. "Of all the stupid things you've done—"

"I said shut it," Lily growled, pressing her wand against his chest. "It was my idea. Now—"

James laughed with surprise. "_Your_ idea?" he asked and Lily nodded resolutely. "Bloody brilliant idea, Lily—"

"Get out," she replied, thrusting her wand into James's chest.

James took a step back. "Now, I have to explain it was _my_ girlfriend who gave Althea the idea. It was a triangle, Lily, now it's a damn pentagon."

Lily rolled her eyes. "He needs to get over himself," she sighed, keeping her wand pointed at his chest. "They've been together for _two years_."

James's eyes flashed from Lily's wand to her face. "You can't imagine what he's capable of, Lily."

"Believe me, it's not as terrible as what I'll do to him," she replied, directing James toward the staircase.

Althea felt a small surge of gratitude at Lily's defense of her.

"Remind him of the talk I had with him our sixth-year when Althea was in the hospital wing."

"The fireplace is over there."

"I know."

"I need over there," James said, nodding toward the fireplace.

"No, you don't," she replied, shaking her head. "Use the staircase."

"You know I can't use the staircase. Let me pass…_please_," he replied and attempted to pass Lily.

Lily rested her hand in the doorway, blocking James from passing. "Use the staircase like everyone else in this dormitory room."

James shook his head and attempted to pass; however, Lily was ready and pushed him backward. He stumbled for a moment—his eyes widening—and he fell backward, the staircase underneath him sloping. Althea snorted with a laugh as she heard James tumbling and cursing down the slide. Lily smoothed her dark red hair away from her face as she took one last look at the converted staircase.

"Thank you," Althea said quietly and blew her nose into her handkerchief.

"We'll mend this," Lily replied as she sat next to Althea.

Althea vigorously shook her head. "It can't be mended," she said, looking at her shoes. "We said some very awful things."

"It probably wasn't as awful as what you used to say to one another," Lily replied softly, stroking wet pieces of hair from Althea's face.

"Lily—"

"What did you say?"

Althea looked from her shoes to Lily's eyes. "I told him that I was pregnant, and lost the baby because of him," she said, new tears streaming down her face. "I wanted to hurt him so terribly."

"But you know it—"

"I know!" she interrupted, standing. "It wasn't a Bludger—it wasn't the game—I just—you didn't hear what he said to me. He—he believes what they say about werewolves."

Lily wrinkled her brow. "He doesn't—"

Althea fiercely shook her head. "He does, I know it. I disgust him."

"Bastard," Lily breathed.

"I can't stay here anymore," she said, looking around the empty dormitory. "I don't want to see him."

Lily stood as well. "You can't leave—we only have a few days left," she replied soothingly, resting her hand on Althea's upper arm.

Althea roughly smacked Lily's hand away. "Yes, I can. I have to," she said, eyeing her things.

Despite Lily's protests, Althea threw her things in her trunk. Lily did not understand—Althea could not stay. The stares. The whispers. Everyone would know what happened by the lake (at least the couple was broken up), and she did not want to face one meal in the Great Hall or one walk through the common room. Althea sat on her trunk to close it. He would have someone within this week—someone to flaunt and parade in front of Althea. What girl didn't want to be in Althea's former position? There were plenty of stupid girls to ease Sirius through the pain of this breakup. Althea's eyes narrowed as she locked her trunk. _If he doesn't make it look like he was bored with me and tossed me aside_, she thought darkly, dragging her trunk toward the door. _Of course, that's what he'll do. I wouldn't doubt if there is a new girl on his arm by next week_.

"Althea, I wish you wouldn't," Lily frowned as Althea opened the dormitory door.

"I have to," she replied, letting her trunk drop to the floor. "I'll write you once I return to Northfield and I'll write you constantly this week."

"Gabriel will never forgive you," she replied, wiping her eyes.

"I'll return for the Hogsmeade weekend. I'll meet you at King's Cross. I promise I won't enter the cottage until you arrive," she replied, wiping her own eyes. "We'll decorate it together…and clean it. I don't think it's been lived in since I was six or so."

Lily sighed as she charmed Althea's trunk lighter. "I wanted to see Gran's face when you arrived at Northfield."

Althea smiled half-heartedly. "I'll take a photograph, and I'll reenact the scene when you arrive."

Lily threw her arms around Althea and pulled her into a tight hug. "Two Galleons she mentions Sirius within her first breath," she whispered and kissed Althea's cheek.

Althea kissed Lily's cheek. "Five she sends him a Howler at breakfast tomorrow," she replied, holding Lily tighter.

Lily pulled away, raising an eyebrow. "Gran doesn't know how to use a Howler."

"She does," she replied and rubbed her forehead. "She enjoys yelling at me personally, though."

"I suppose I should keep Gabriel for the week."

"Right, I wouldn't want you using the school owls," Althea replied and sniffed back tears. "Well, then…bye."

"Bye," Lily replied, pulling Althea into another tight hug.

Althea pulled away, tapped her trunk to follower her, and descended the staircase. _Bloody hell_, she thought, frowning as she saw the common room full of students. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and floated her suitcase behind her. She continued to look ahead, refusing to make eye contact with any of the students staring at her. She knew why they were staring—how could something so explosive be kept secret?

"Althea, is it true?"

Althea stopped, her trunk slamming into her back. She turned to face a sixth-year Gryffindor girl.

"What, about Black?" Althea asked and a few of the students nodded. "Is anything secret anymore?" she murmured, resting her hands on her hips. Althea sighed and rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, go upstairs and throw yourselves at him. It would surely make his day," she explained and tapped her trunk with her wand.

_Unbelievable_, she thought angrily as she waited as the staircase shifted, allowing her to descend. _Not, 'Althea, are you all right? What an awful swine Sirius is, telling you he wanted you dead.' I hear, 'Is it true about Black?' Bloody hell, how predictable, too. I reckon one of them is already there making him feel just fine_.

"Althea!" she heard Remus shout from above her.

Althea continued to descend the staircase as she heard Remus run down the stairs. _Please, just go away_, she thought, clenching her jaw—her eyes hurting from the new tears she painfully attempted to suppress. She had broken his trust. _God, Iphigenia will know now_, she thought, stepping off the last step. _I didn't think…. I should never have written him, but I was too much of a coward. I've hurt so many people_.

Remus's footsteps grew louder. "Althea, wait!" he shouted breathlessly.

Althea stopped and turned to face Remus. Remus quickly descended the staircase and Althea clasped her hands over her mouth. His nose broken and left eye swollen shut, he quickly approached Althea. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took out her wand to heal his cuts.

"He did this to you?" she whispered, holding her wand to his cut bottom lip.

Remus nodded.

Althea stopped and covered her face with her hands. "I'm—so—sorry," she choked out between her sobs. Remus placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, and Althea gently knocked his arm away. "You shouldn't…I'm awful," she said, looking into his eyes. "Oh, let me mend that," she added, placing her wand against his blackened eye. Instantly, the swelling lessened and Remus was able to blink his eye.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "Why did you…" he began, but shook his head. "I never told anyone."

"I couldn't let him believe a lie," she began, her trembling hand placing her wand in her pocket. "I wrote him a letter explaining everything last year—"

"Last year?" he repeated quietly and Althea nodded vigorously. "Why now?"

Althea wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands. "I thought he knew. I thought he had the letter, but he didn't…Snape had the letter," she explained and Remus covered his mouth with his cut and bruised hand. "Snape showed him the letter today…. He never knew."

Remus kept his mouth covered as he shook his head.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered as Remus trembled.

He uncovered his mouth and rubbed the side of his face. "He's threatening to tell everyone about me," he said, his frightened eyes looking into hers. "Althea, you can't leave. In a day or two, we'll explain to him. We have to, or else he'll tell."

Althea slowly shook her head. "I can't."

Remus grabbed Althea by her upper arms. "You have to, you have to stay and explain with me. He'll come to understand," he said, his grip upon her unnaturally tight.

Althea sniffed and rapidly blinked her eyes. "Understand? He's threatening to tell everyone about you and he wants me dead…. I know about fifth-year. He has no remorse for what he did," she explained, frowning. "Nothing I could say would ever repair it, Remus. You can talk with him because I've ruined everything."

"No, you haven't," he replied and squeezed her upper arms.

Althea refused to look at Remus; instead, she looked at his bloodstained robe. "No, I've said the most horrible thing," she replied, her throat tightening.

She would tell Remus about her pregnancy. It did not matter anymore to hide such a secret. He would discover her secret when he returned to his dormitory. She wanted to tell him the truth of how truly awful she was.

"The most horrible thing?" he repeated, lifting her face.

Althea nodded fretfully.

"What?"

"I don't want to say it. Please," she answered, motioning him to bend. "I told him that he was the reason why I lost the baby in March," she whispered into his ear.

Remus pulled away. "Baby?" he whispered—his eyes slightly wide.

Althea nodded.

"Did he know you were?" he insinuated and took a deep gulp of air.

Althea slightly shook her head. "No, only Lily knew. She found me after I took the test and I made her swear not to tell," she explained and bit her bottom lip.

"You were going to have to tell eventually," he replied, letting go of Althea.

Althea rubbed her upper arms. "I wasn't thinking that far. I was too frightened."

"Now it all makes sense," he murmured, absentmindedly rubbing his chin.

Althea looked at him quizzically.

"I remember, you'd sneeze and all the parchments would fly off the desks and books would fly off the shelves in the library. My mum told me she had all this weird stuff happen when she was pregnant with me—supposed to make me feel better. As if I'm some special child, or something…" he continued with an uneasy smile. "Anyway, after the match right?"

Althea nodded. "Was it that obvious?" she asked and winced at her further lies.

Remus shook his head. "No," he answered, placing his hands on her shoulders, "but a simple Bludger hit doesn't normally require a three day stay in the hospital wing."

Althea sniffed. "No, it doesn't," she murmured, uncomfortable in her lie, looking toward her shoes. "Iphigenia needs you," she said and lifted his arms from her. "I have to go."

* * *

"What is that awful wailing?" Gran remarked, opening Althea's door.

Althea continued to lie on her bed—her knees pulled up to her chest. _Oh, she will love what happened_, she thought, pulling herself into a tighter ball. _She'll tell me I deserved every part of it_.

"Althea Rosemary, why are you here?" Gran asked loudly, which startled Althea—she had not realized Gran had walked to the side of her bed. "Calm down, you silly girl. Your wailing is ruining my Bridge game," she continued, sitting on Althea's bed.

Althea attempted to stifle her sobbing and Gran frowned as she examined her.

"Wailing does not suit you, and sit up. I won't speak to you as you are," she added and Althea slowly sat up.

Roughly wiping her eyes and sniffing back more tears, she waited for Gran's condescension.

"I thought after Easter Holiday you never wanted to see me again," she remarked, raising an eyebrow. "You made it perfectly clear as you hopped on the back of that horrible boy's motorbike."

"Don't," Althea muttered, bringing her knees to her chest.

Gran sighed as she handed Althea her handkerchief. Althea wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"I've taken my N.E.W.T.s—the results will come next week or after. I've passed."

"I don't doubt you've passed your exams, but why are you here?" she asked, folding her arms. "It's that boy, isn't it?"

Althea remained silent.

"He's left you, hasn't he? I doubt you were bright enough to leave him."

"I left _him_, Gran," she replied, straightening her legs.

"And you left Hogwarts, I see," she remarked, looking from Althea to Althea's trunk and broom.

"And you're not playing Bridge. You're playing Poker," Althea replied as Gran's eyes slightly widened. "Lily and I eavesdropped on your Bridge game when we were fifteen. We heard you laughing as you collected your winnings as Lady Applewood remarked on your bluffing at Five-Card Stud."

Gran's lips twitched. "Yes, well, your wailing cost me that last hand, Althea Rosemary," she replied, regaining her stern look. "You shouldn't be here. You made such a dramatic fuss over staying at Hogwarts, and now you leave early—"

"I can't go back there," she interrupted, shaking her head.

"Yes, because that boy is still there," she sneered and sighed. "What did he do? Leave you for someone else? A pure-blooded girl?"

"No," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. "I finally saw him for what he was—an arrogant actor," she continued, bringing her knees to her chest. "Aren't you going to say, 'I told you so,' Gran?"

Gran slowly reached forward and stroked stray hairs behind Althea's ear. Her uncharacteristic behavior caused Althea to straighten. "You are a beautiful young woman, Althea Rosemary. You will find a man—not a boy—deserving of your love," she replied and awkwardly placed her hand in her lap. "I'll have Harrison bring you some tea…I have more of Lady Applewood's money to take."


	36. Hogwarts, April 1994

**Hogwarts, April 1994**

"Bugger all," Althea mumbled, rolling over onto her back.

Raising her hands to her eyes to block the sunlight, Althea stretched her aching legs from their previously cramped position. _How long have I been passed out_, she thought as she wiped the dried drool from the side of her face. Slowly, she lifted her head off the tile, and stopped as her head started throbbing. Holding her head, she swayed from side to side as she attempted to stand on her shaky legs. Still drunk from the evening before, Althea rested her hands on her sink, leaning into her hands to steady herself. Slowly lifting her head, she gazed at herself in the mirror and groaned. Her face flushed from alcohol, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, and her skin full of crease marks from her clothing. She was grotesque and ugly—a horrible old hag. Resting her hands against the doorframe, she pushed herself forward into her bedroom. Carefully holding on to anything stationary to keep her balance, she walked toward and flung herself onto her bed. Indifferent to adjusting herself, Althea lay motionless on her bed—her hair in her face and her arms at her sides.

"Make it go away," she groaned, shutting her eyes tighter.

"Make what go away?" Remus asked, sitting on her bed. "Good God, Althea, you smell awful," he added, poking her shoulder. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?"

Althea flung her arm in the direction of Remus, hoping to make contact—she hit him in the shoulder. "Get away from me!" she croaked, lifting herself off her bed.

Remus frowned. "Come on, I'll help you in the bath," he replied as he stood, stretching his arms out the help Althea.

"No!" she shouted, waving her arms and staggering backward. "Don't touch me!"

"Althea, I'll draw a bath for you," he said, walking toward her.

Althea fumbled in her pocket as she searched for her wand. "Get away from me!" she yelled, pointing her wand at Remus.

Remus frowned as he eyed Althea warily. "This isn't necessary," he replied calmly. "Please, put down your wand."

Her hand shaking, she refused to put down her wand. "I—I know what you did—you—you—murderer!"

Remus sighed. "Althea, calm down," he said, slipping his hand into his pocket.

Althea saw him reach for his wand. "I will not _calm down_!" she shouted, enraged. "And _do not_ reach for your wand!"

Remus lifted his hand from his pocket. "I'm not reaching for my wand," he replied, showing her his hands. "Now, what is this you're talking about?"

"You know!" she shouted, thrusting her wand forward as she spoke. "You—you took my Sirius away from me! I stood up for you! I defended you when they were convinced you were the spy—I'd convinced Lily! You couldn't possibly be what they said because _I_ knew you best! I convinced her!" she said, her arm aching from its raised position. "So, you framed Sirius for the death of his best friend! When it was you all along!"

She waited for his reply, but none came. Was his silence his agreement? Remus stood, with his arms at his sides, frowning. Althea could not tolerate his silence anymore.

"Say something, damn it! Say it! Say it!" she demanded, stomping up and down.

"Keep your voice down," he said coolly.

"Keep my voice down? Keep my voice down? Is that _all_ you can say—'keep your voice down'?" she shouted, throwing her arms up into the air. "Don't you ever show _any_ emotion?"

"Althea, _please_," he replied, his jaw tightening.

Disgusted, Althea threw her wand onto her bed. "I should have known," she said, running her fingers through her slightly matted hair. "You never cried, or yelled, or screamed. You were calm—_always so calm_." Althea walked toward Remus. "Why didn't you cry—hmm? Why didn't you yell or curse the ground Sirius walked on?"

Remus sighed and walked toward Althea's dressing table. He began to violently open and close each drawer, shaking the bottles and vials upon the table.

"What are you doing?" she asked, quickly walking toward the dressing table.

Remus did not answer as he quickly shuffled through the middle drawer.

"Get out of there!"

Remus grasped something in his hand and slammed the drawer shut. He spun to meet Althea and Althea took a step back. He ripped the metallic wrapper and broke off piece of chocolate.

"Eat," he said, forcing a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

Althea slowly bit into the chocolate as Remus—his face pale with anger—held out another piece.

"Quickly," he insisted and held another piece to her lips.

Althea swallowed and bit into the new piece of chocolate. Slowly, the melancholy fog began to lift. She reached for the chocolate bar, but Remus held it away from her. He broke off another piece and held it to her lips.

"I can manage," she said, but Remus shook his head.

"I curse Sirius every time I see Harry or Prudence," he began, staring into her eyes. "I curse him when I think about what happened to you. Did you forget Peter? He killed Peter and those twelve Muggles. Muggles that had no idea what was going on in our world. I'm not as loud as you, but I know _keenly_ what you feel," he said, placing the last piece of chocolate between her lips. "After everything, how—how could you think that I…" he began, but shook his head instead of finishing his question.

Althea frowned. "Rosmerta told me about her conversation with Fudge—"

"Fudge?"

Althea nodded. "Rosmerta said that Sirius gave his motorbike to Hagrid. Remus, you know how much he loved that bike," she said and folded her arms, gently rubbing her upper arms. "He was going to kill himself."

Remus rested his hands on her shoulders, and Althea did not move away. "Of course, he was. He did a terrible thing. Don't pay attention to what Fudge says…I thought you'd know that by now," he said softly and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. You were—to even think—"

_How could I have thought of something so stupid_, she thought as Remus held her close. _You're my dearest friend_.

"I know," he sighed, pulling her close to him. "You're drunk and mad," he said quietly, stroking her back, "and that's why I love you."

Althea moved away from him and smiled.

"As your dearest friend," he added, narrowing his eyes. "Brotherly affection."

Althea frowned. "Even though I smell of alcohol and cigarettes?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Had a little more than one shot of Firewhiskey?"

Althea nodded. "Family rum," she muttered, scratching the side of her face.

"It's a wonder that you can stand, then," he said and squeezed her shoulders. "You sit while I draw you a bath," he added and gently directed her toward her bed.

Althea sat upon her bed and watched Remus as he entered her bathroom. "I can take care of myself, you know," she said loudly and clutched her head.

"Of course, you can," he replied and Althea heard him turn on the water faucet.

"You don't need to do this—"

"You've done similar for me," he said and Althea wrinkled her brow in an attempt to remember. "Paris…the day after my thirtieth birthday…New Year's Day 1991…loads of times." A couple minutes passed, and Remus entered her bedroom. "It's all ready. I'll make you some tea."

Althea lips twitched into an amused, but embarrassed smile as she entered her bathroom—Remus had drawn her bath using rose-scented bubble bath. She undressed, and slowly slipped into her bath. Althea rested her head against the back of the tub and deeply inhaled the sweet, soothing fragrance. Sinking lower into the tub, she closed her eyes and thought about what a complete fool she had been to Remus. How could she have believed that Remus was a murderer? _After all these years and I treat him horribly_, she thought, slipping her head underneath the warm water. _I don't deserve his friendship. I don't deserve to be forgiven_, she thought as she surfaced and opened her eyes.

Remus cleared his throat. "I have your tea," he said, standing in the bathroom doorway. "I'll leave it here. I also brought your wand for a Sobering Charm," he added, and Althea heard him place the items upon her sink.

"I'd like my tea now, actually," she said, smiling.

"Oh, right."

Looking away, with his eyes closed, Remus handed her a cup of tea.

Taking the tea, Althea laughed at his modesty. "Remus please," she said laughingly, taking a sip of tea. "I'm not that modest," she said, resting her head against the back of the bathtub, "but I suppose I am that hideous naked."

"You're not hideous," he sighed, folding his arms.

Althea smiled mischievously. "Could you perform the Sobering Charm?" she asked, taking another sip of tea. "I'm all wet."

Even though his back was turned, she could still imagine the frown forming across his face. Remus, his back turned toward her, pointed his wand at Althea.

"Remus, I think you need to turn around for this one—you're not even aiming properly," she said, placing the empty cup on the floor next to bathtub.

"I'll wait until you're out of the bath."

"Right," she sighed, tapping the side of the tub as Remus exited her bathroom. "Right."

Althea frowned. _What is the big deal_, she thought, stepping out of the bathtub. _As if he has never seen me naked—he was there, holding my hand, when Prudence was born_, she continued to think as she wrapped a towel around herself. Slipping on her dressing gown, she walked over to Remus, who sat on her bed. Althea sat next to him and folded her hands in her lap.

"Well," she sighed.

"_Sobrius_," he said, tapping his wand on the top of her head. From the tip of his wand, a warm, tingling sensation trickled throughout her body.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. "Could you dry my hair too?"

"_Arefacio_," he muttered, pointing his wand to her wet hair.

"Much better," she replied, smiling. "Thank you." Althea gently bit her bottom lip at the awkward silence encompassing the room. "Remus," she sighed, looking into his eyes, "you shouldn't forgive me so quickly. I said such terrible, awful things to you."

Remus sighed and smiled. "You were drunk—you tend to say awful things when you're drunk," he said, taking her hand in his. "You also become very…amorous," he added with amusement.

"Please," she said, squeezing his hand. "You take care of me and look how I repay you," she said, looking at their hands. "I accuse you of something absolutely horrible!"

Remus rested his forehead against hers. "I've been accused of worse, you know," he replied quietly. "I ignore it."

"But it had to have hurt you."

"It did," he replied, stroking the top of her hand. "I know how much you don't want to believe you made a mistake."

Althea cringed at the word _mistake_. She never wanted to admit to herself that she had made a mistake dating Sirius—that she had mistaken his character so greatly. She never wanted to admit to herself, that Gran in all her infinite, but faulty wisdom was correct. In Sirius's blood traveled evil, and no amount of praying, wishing, or denial could change him. Maybe it was better she gave up Prudence for adoption—Dumbledore had known all along, but he spoke in riddles and shrouded sentences. Althea sighed knowingly—she was never good at riddles. Now that evil coursed through her daughter's veins, and she hoped that evil never surfaced again. _I pray somehow it has been diluted_, she thought, taking a ragged breath. _I could never live with myself knowing I helped create a potential monster_.

Althea pulled away from Remus. "I think I am ready, though."

"Ready for what?"

"To admit…it."

"Oh," he said, taking her hands.

Althea cleared her throat. "I, Althea Rosemary Morrigan, being of—don't laugh, Remus—being of sound mind, do hereby state that I made a huge mistake when I took Sirius back…the bastard," she finished and Remus tenderly squeezed her hand. "God, that was difficult."

"But it needed to be said," he replied thoughtfully.

"It took almost thirteen years to say it," she replied, producing a small, nervous laugh.

Remus smiled and brought her hand to his cheek. "Now, I have something to say."

"Yes?"

"Althea, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have lived to witness my thirtieth birthday," he began and closed his eyes. "Almost ten years ago, when the Ministry marked me, I thought my life was over," he said, nuzzling her hand. Althea's eyes lingered on the branded _W_ on Remus's wrist, which he fiercely covered, but let escape in her presence. "But you reminded me that I was human—"

"A _man_—"

Remus smiled. "Yes, a man. I'll never forget that…thank you."

"You're welcome."

Remus continued to sit before her with his eyes closed, and Althea had the sudden urgency to kiss him. The urge was so overwhelming and intense that her body jolted forward; however, she abruptly halted herself from doing so, and Remus did not seem to notice her struggle. What would have happened, if just then, she had kissed him? Would he have kissed her back, or pushed her away? The thought of him pushing her away did not frighten her as much as the thought of him kissing her back. _He's a friend—a good friend—Althea, nothing more. You're lonely and it's been ages, that's all_.

Remus opened his eyes. "That's why I could never hate you," he said, removing her hand from the side of his face and gently placing it in her lap. "I've known you too long to know when you really mean something."

Althea smiled timidly. "No more pity days for me."

"I think that is a wonderful idea," he said, smiling. "I like you better on tea anyway," he added and stood.

"Where are you going?" she asked, standing.

"I have to finish reading the first-year essays."

"Prudence?"

Remus nodded. "I'll bring you Prudence's essay to read after you've had some rest," he said, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Thank you," she replied, and that impulse to kiss him returned—Althea bit her lip instead.

"I'll see you later, then," he replied, stroking a thick curl away from her face. His rough fingertips brushed against her skin, causing a jolt of adrenaline to surge through her body.

"Right," she whispered, the impulse shortening her breath.

"Get some rest," he said and kissed her cheek.

Althea closed her eyes as her breath constricted—all she needed to do was turn her face. _Turn your face, Althea_, she thought as Remus began to pull away. _Turn it! Turn it_! Althea, her head frozen, watched as Remus pulled away from her. She waved and said goodbye as he walked out her door. For a moment, Althea stood motionless, watching the closed door.

Frustrated, she threw herself backward onto her bed. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" she growled, pounding her fists into her bed. "This is very wrong!"

She covered her face with her hands and angrily rubbed her eyes—hoping to remove the thought of Remus as anything more than a close friend from her mind.


	37. Northfield, July 1979

**Northfield, July 1979**

"Lily, you know you have your own room," Althea said as she sat at her dressing table.

Lily sat up from the bed. "I know, but this is the last time we'll be able to have a sleepover," she said, smoothing the bedclothes.

Althea smiled as she reminisced of past sleepovers. Their last official sleepover occurred in May of their seventh-year. Althea thought it would be great fun if the girls partook in some of Althea's family rum for Lily never had rum—or any other liquor—in her entire life. It soon led to—what Althea believed—to be one of the greatest moments in Hogwarts history of the late 1970s. The drunken Head Girl carried on the shoulders of the Head Boy as Althea distracted the rest of the boy's dormitory—and losing what little honor she had left—with a drunken, raunchy rendition of "Ziggy Stardust" dedicated to Sirius.

"Making love with Althea, Althea spanked his behind," Lily sang and laughed loudly.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe you remember the song," Althea replied, smiling as she shook her head.

"Oh, I don't," Lily replied and sighed loudly and happily. "Peter likes to hum the tune, and sometimes I catch Remus mouthing the words over Sirius' shoulder," she explained and winked. "James does his best not to smile…. We should ask the band to play it tomorrow."

Althea giggled as she turned to look in her mirror. She watched Lily from the mirror's reflection as Althea combed her hair.

"Actually, I might ask the band to play, 'Let's Spend the Night Together,'" she teased and smiled impishly as Lily's face flushed a pale shade of pink.

"Oh, I believe that drunken serenade was directed at you," she reminded and winked.

"With backup vocals by James," she reminded as well, smoothing her hair with her hands.

Around three o'clock in the morning, the morning after James's birthday their seventh-year, the two girls—and the rest of Gryffindor Tower—were awakened with an apologetic Sirius singing The Rolling Stones song as he and James hovered on their brooms outside Althea's dormitory window. Mortified, Althea lay awake in her bed while Sirius half-shouted and half-sang the words, and as Lily, giggling, lay in her bed. Lily's giggling was infectious, and Althea's mortification waned—she opening her window and smiling as Sirius continued to shout and to sing the words, his gaze locked with hers. In the end, Althea apologized (Sirius seemed to have the ability to make Althea apologize for arguments he started), and McGonagall threatened to have the boys spend their nights in two weeks of detentions instead of one if they did not quiet.

"Where did he learn about Muggle music?" Lily wondered, resting her hands atop the bedclothes.

Althea laughed quietly. "At fifteen, he chatted up some shop girl," she explained, scrutinizing her hair in the mirror, "or so I've been told. Anything to anger his family, right?"

"Do you reckon they'll do something like that tonight?" she asked, fumbling with the bedclothes.

"Chat up shop girls?"

"No, do something reckless."

Althea placed the brush on the dressing table and turned to face Lily. "It wasn't reckless, it was stupid," she replied, and frowned slightly as she thought of James bound to a streetlamp and deserted by his friends. "Don't worry, he'll be there for the ceremony tomorrow…. Of course, they might've forgotten where they left him—"

"_Don't_," Lily warned, pointing and index finger at Althea. "I'll remember this for your wedding, you know."

Althea laughed quietly. "I won't marry, then," she quipped and winked. "Anyway, tomorrow will be a fantastic day."

_Tomorrow_, she mused, smiling, _my best friend, marrying James Potter…James Potter, how bloody unreal_. Althea walked over to her bed, and pulled back the bedclothes. Until their last year at Hogwarts, Althea never thought Lily and James would date, but she knew how quickly feelings changed. Tomorrow, she would watch Lily exchange vows with James in the rose garden of her Northfield estate.

"Do you think we'll be safe tomorrow?" Lily asked, Althea noticing the slight air of nervousness in her voice.

"Of course," she replied, resting her head against the soft pillow. "Dumbledore has put up so many spells and barriers the Death Eaters won't be able to attend your wedding."

Lily rested her head on her pillow and turned her face toward Althea. "It's just," she began—her lip trembling, "I wish Petunia were here. I should be spending this night with you and Petunia. She's my older sister and all I have left."

_Damn Petunia_, she thought, snuggling close to Lily, _it's not Lily's fault your mother is dead_. Seven months ago, Lily's mother became very ill, and with Petunia closer to her mother, the burden of caring for her primarily fell to Petunia. Lily knew that Petunia resented her situation, and Lily attempted as best she could to take care of her mother. When the two young women would visit, Althea would notice Petunia eyeing her sister with contempt as their mother happily greeted Lily. Lily was not there when her mother died, and Althea felt Petunia wanted it that way. At the funeral, Petunia would not recognize her sister, and clung to her new husband, Dursley. After the funeral, Petunia informed Lily that she wanted nothing more to do with Lily and her freak friends. Petunia would not let Lily destroy anymore of her life.

"I know," Althea whispered softly, smoothing the hair away from Lily's face.

Lily rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands. "This stupid war!" she said, frustrated. "I shouldn't even be thinking of getting married—not now. I'm putting all those lives in danger tomorrow, just so I can live happily ever after with James?"

Althea frowned. "Lily, that's what he wants. He doesn't want you to marry James," she said emphatically, sitting up. "Your marriage is the ultimate rebellion against what he believes in."

Lily sat up as well. "No, I think your marriage to Sirius would be the ultimate rebellion."

Increasingly uncomfortable, Althea shifted her gaze to her lilac-colored, silk nightgown. "Lily, it's over between us—has been for over a year."

"No, it hasn't," she replied knowingly, tugging at Althea's nightgown. "I know he was in your bedroom three weeks ago for I caught him leaving it as I returned home that morning," she continued with a wry smile. "Love bites, messed hair, and a large grin until he spotted me."

Althea's cheeks and neck prickled with warmth.

"Then, James went to wish Sirius a happy birthday, and _who_ did he see naked and asleep in Sirius's bed as Sirius attempted to block James's view of his bedroom?"

"Me," Althea murmured, rubbing her forehead. "Bloody hell, nothing's come of it," she added defensively, frowning. "We're not together, we—"

"Just enjoy the occasional shag," Lily teased, smoothing the hair away from Althea's face.

"What has become of me?" Althea sighed, bringing her knees to her chest. "Why can't I find a _nice_ wizard?"

Lily leaned close to Althea. "Because secretly in the depths of your soul, you realize you cannot live without Sirius," she explained conspiratorially. "He's your soul mate."

"Ha!" Althea laughed. "Everyone knows my soul mate is James," she teased and laughed as Lily gave her a dirty look. "Don't look at me like that."

"Sirius is the reason you didn't join the Order, isn't?" she asked knowingly.

"Lily, please—that's ridiculous—I didn't join the Order because…" she began, but paused, straightening her legs.

Why had she not joined? It would have seemed the obvious choice. _I don't want to actively search out my death_, she thought, stroking the hem of her nightgown. _I see so much of it at St. Mungo's—the broken bodies, the grieving families…I loathe it_.

"No, you're right. I didn't join because of him. I don't know what he's trying to prove," she answered, folding her arms. "He always has to be the bloody hero."

"He's trying to prove he's a good man," she replied.

Althea laughed half-heartedly.

"Althea, he loves you very much...almost _too_ much, I think."

Althea pushed the bedclothes from herself and stood from the bed. "Oh, I think he made his feelings known three weeks ago," she said, walking toward her window.

Althea gazed out of her window at the beautiful night sky and frowned. She did not like the prospect of standing across from Sirius as James and Lily professed their love.

"Anyway, he has a girlfriend—saw her with him in Diagon Alley," she added, stroking the windowpane.

"Oh, that's _not_ his girlfriend," she replied, staring at Althea. "Althea, with the work he does, he hasn't been able to date or have a girlfriend. Plus, you didn't see him after you left Hogwarts. He stayed in his bed for the whole week—in that pathetic flat of his. He didn't eat…didn't lift his wand for anything."

"Good," she snorted.

Lily shook her head. "How can you say that?"

"Easy," she replied shortly, sitting on the window ledge. "You didn't have to hear what he said to me."

"But what about what you said to him? Making him believe he was the reason you miscarried—when you miscarried a month prior," she said, standing from the bed.

Althea pushed herself from the window ledge. "He wanted me dead, Lily."

"His pride was wounded—"

"His pride was wounded, and he wanted me dead? Lily, I saw his true character. What would have happened if we married and had a fight? I might not be here. Lily, I don't want to have a relationship with Sirius again."

Lily sat next to Althea. "Why do you sleep with him, then?"

"It happened twice—"

"Be straight with me, it was more than twice," Lily interrupted, looking at her friend. "You haven't discussed anything with him, have you?"

"Right, three," she lied and sighed, resting the back of her head against the windowpane. "Christmas and his birthday we were too pissed to discuss anything…and the last time we were very much sober," she explained, and looked at Lily. "However, that evening—while you were out with James—he returned for a fourth time, and instead, I wanted to talk about the history between us," she continued to explain, lifting her head from the windowpane. "We had an awful row, didn't discuss anything, and he made it quite clear he thought me a slag."

Lily furrowed her eyebrows. "James and I want you both to get along. It's unbearable," she said earnestly. "I know you love him, and I know he loves you."

Althea sighed. "Lily, it won't happen," she replied, standing. "I think I'll take a walk—you need some sleep," she added, walking toward the door.

"Althea—"

"Goodnight, Lily."

"Goodnight," Lily sighed as Althea opened the door.

_I hate this house at night_, she thought as she walked the long corridors of Northfield. Althea continued to walk lonely, dark corridors in search of nothing. The only purpose of her walk was to remove herself from Lily. Lily did not understand what it was like—James was incapable of yelling at her. She never saw the repulsion in Sirius's eyes. _God, that look of repulsion_, she thought, walking down the staircase. _I'll never forget it—he was disgusted by me. I should have never written him or told him_, she thought, walking past one of the many rooms that housed portraits of past Morrigans. Althea stopped and ran her fingers through her hair. _What am I thinking? It was good that I told him; otherwise, I could have been in a miserable marriage. Thank you, Sirius for being so—so—so…what was that_?

The sound of piano keys touched singly broke her from her thoughts. Althea opened the partially closed door and entered the portrait gallery. In the dark, Althea eyes determined the figure of a young man standing beside the piano, touching the keys. Stroking her hand up the wall, she found the light switch and turned it on; unfortunately, she wished she had not turned on the light. _Bloody hell, it's Sirius_, she thought, frowning. She wished she could escape, but she had to acknowledge his presence—she had turned on the light. He looked up from the piano keys and shoved his hands in his pockets. _I thought they wouldn't come back until this morning_, she thought, wishing she had worn a dressing gown. She had not liked the idea of Sirius and James spending the night in the house. Actually, she had not liked the idea of Sirius spending the night in the house; however, it had to be done—the less people arriving at once the better.

"I'm sorry, I heard the piano," she muttered and bit her lip.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll leave now," she replied, turning around.

"Wait," Sirius said, and Althea's stomach tightened and twisted.

"What?"

He took his hand from his pocket and pointed at the piano. "Do you still play this?"

"No, I haven't played in over a year," she said, staring at the piano. "I thought you'd be with James tonight."

"I was, but someone has to stay somewhat sober to wake the groom," he replied, with a small smile.

"Right," Althea breathed, with a weak smile. "Well then, goodnight," she added and turned once more toward the door.

"Wait," Sirius called out again, and Althea frowned.

_Just leave me alone, Sirius_, she thought, turning around.

"What?"

Sirius began to walk toward her. "I was wondering, who those people are on the walls?" he asked, pointing to the rather large portraits that hung against the Turkish red walls.

"Oh," she muttered, walking toward the first portrait. "It's my family."

"Why aren't they moving or speaking?" he asked and sneered. "Boring lot, aren't they?"

"They're _Muggle_ portraits," she explained as she stopped at the first portrait.

"You're not Muggle."

"They were and this house is frequented by Muggles."

"Well," he said, standing particularly close to her. Althea took a step to the side. "Who's that one?" he asked, pointing to the oldest of the portraits.

"That's the first Baron Northfield," she said, looking at the portrait of the man who seemed to sneer at the two.

"Oh," Sirius murmured. "How did he get that title?"

"Services to the Crown—or I should say the Queen," Althea replied, a small smile crept onto her face. "He was a Privateer and one of the Queen's lovers—she eventually had him beheaded."

"Beheaded?" Sirius remarked, frowning. "What did the poor bloke do?"

Althea shrugged.

Sirius turned and walked to the next portrait. "Who's this?"

"Grand," she sighed and smiled sadly.

It was a portrait of her grandfather as a young man, and she could not help but feel sadness as she looked at the portrait—he looked exactly like her own father.

Sirius walked to the next portrait and laughed. "Is this your Gran?" he asked laughingly and looked at Althea.

"Right, I know I got my tits from her," she remarked, rolling her eyes.

Sirius shivered. "Gran's tits."

"Let's move on."

"I'm surprised she let me in the house," he remarked, rustling the back of his hair.

"She had to," Althea replied, "you're the best man."

Sirius smiled. "This is your father?" he asked, pointing to a portrait of a man in RAF uniform.

"No, that's my Uncle George," she replied, gazing at the portrait.

Unlike her father, George resembled Gran—except for her blue eyes—Althea's father had Gran's blue eyes; no, George's eyes were grey—at least Althea thought so. Sirius quizzically looked from George, to Gran, and finally to Althea's grandfather's portrait. He turned to Althea and shook his head.

"What?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Gran's favorite, right?" he asked and Althea nodded. "What's the uniform?"

Althea sighed—she hoped he did not want a detailed Morrigan family history in portraits.

"The Royal Air Force," she began, turning toward Sirius. "His airplane was shot down over Germany in 1943," she added, shuffling her foot across the rug.

"No wonder you were a Seeker," he muttered, turning to look at the portrait again. "You have his eyes," he said, pointing to the portrait next to her uncle.

"That's my father," she replied and bit her bottom lip.

Walking in front of her, he stopped at the portrait to her right. "This is your mother," he said, his eyes not wavering from the portrait. "You look exactly like her," he continued and smiled mischievously, "except for the tits, of course."

"Thanks," she muttered uncomfortably.

Sirius lingered at her mother's portrait for a moment, sighed, and stepped to Althea's portrait. "This, of course, is you," he said, and bit the inside of his cheek.

Althea inhaled a deep breath, waiting for a caustic remark and thinking of a cutting reply. She watched as Sirius sighed—was it sadness she witnessed? What was he sad about?

"You're beautiful," he remarked quietly, turning toward her.

Althea inhaled another breath as Sirius stared into her eyes. "Sirius, please," she said, folding her arms.

Sirius brought his hand to her cheek and stroked the hair from her face. Althea unfolded her arms to push him away, but her arms went limp at her sides. He rested his forehead against hers, and she could smell the alcohol on his warm breath—it stinging her nostrils.

"I'm miserable without you. I need you," he whispered as his hand slid to the back of her neck.

"You're drunk," Althea whispered, attempting to step backward, but Sirius held her close.

"I don't care," he murmured, and placed his lips to hers.

For a moment, Althea submitted to the desire to kiss him, and enjoyed the way his lips and mouth felt against hers. _What am I doing_, she thought as she realized she was enjoying it too much.

"Sirius, stop," she said, pushing him away.

Sirius frowned, running his fingers through his hair.

"I—I have to go," she said quickly.

Her head bent, she hurriedly walked toward the door. Not stopping, she ran up the stairs, but quietly tiptoed to her room. Lily lay on her side of the bed—her eyes closed. Carefully, Althea slipped underneath the bedclothes and rested her head against the pillow. _What have I done_, she thought, staring at the moonlit ceiling. _Sirius kissed me and I kissed him back. I'm such an idiot! Now—now I've given him a bloody invitation to bother me. I can't possibly, not after what happened. Sirius and I are no more—we can't be…. Damn it! Why does he do this to me_, she thought, bringing her hands to her face. She licked her lips—she could still taste him and the alcohol on them. Outside her door, Althea heard Sirius pause and raise his hand to the door. _Oh God, I don't need him knocking on my door with Lily here_, she thought, holding her breath. If Lily were not in the bedroom, would she want him to knock? Her eyes widened as she entertained the fact she would let him in her bedroom. However, she heard Sirius sigh, and he continued walking to his bedroom. _His_ bedroom.

Not knowing what had come over her, Althea quietly slipped out of bed and walked toward her door. Easing the door closed, she slowly walked toward Sirius's bedroom. _What am I thinking_, she thought as she stood in front of the door. _I'll tell him that the kiss meant nothing, and I'm sorry if I've led him to believe otherwise_. Althea sighed nervously and knocked on the door. _Maybe I shouldn't have knocked_, she thought, upon hearing Sirius's footsteps nearing the door. The doorknob turned, and the door squeaked open.

"Althea," he said with a touch of surprise. "Is something the matter?"

Althea's stomach convulsed and contorted as she nodded. "Yes," she said quietly and bit her bottom lip.

"Please, come in, then" he replied, opening the door so she could enter.

Althea nervously entered his bedroom, folding her arms as Sirius closed the door. _Right_, she thought, sitting on the bed. _Sirius, I did not mean to kiss you earlier. I want nothing to do with you, so please, leave me alone_, she rehearsed in her mind as Sirius sat next to her. Althea opened her mouth, but closed it—frowning.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, resting his hand on her back. "Did something happen? Is Lily all right?"

Althea lurched forward, cringing that she enjoyed the way his hand felt against her skin and the silk of the nightgown. "I—I'm fine," she replied nervously, turning toward Sirius. "It's about before."

"Oh," he murmured, his fingers slowly stroking where his hand rested on her back.

_Damn it, why must he look so bloody concerned_, she thought, looking into Sirius's face. _Tell me I'm an idiot or a bitch; just—just stop looking at me like that_! Sirius removed his hand from her back and took her hands in his, causing Althea to wince slightly. _Oh God, Sirius, please—please do not tell me that you love me_.

"Althea, I was an idiot," he said, staring into her eyes. "I should never have let you go."

Althea swallowed a breath. "Sirius, don't," she said quietly, taking her hands from his. "The wedding is later this afternoon."

"I know," he said quietly, bringing his hand to the side of her face.

Althea closed her eyes as his warm hand tenderly caressed her cheek. She knew she should have removed his hand, but kept it there—allowing it to drift down her neck, onto her shoulder.

"This is very wrong," she whispered, as Sirius rested his forehead against hers.

"I know…I know…I know," he continued whispering as he kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, her jaw.

She should stop him. She should tell him the speech she had rehearsed in her head. She should push him away, call him a swine, and slap him—or worse. However, she could not—she needed him just as much as he needed her. He was comfortable, safe, and known.

"Oh bloody hell," she murmured into his ear, as he kissed her neck and collarbone.

* * *

_Frankincense_, she thought as she opened her eyes. _I know that smell—Sirius's soap smells like frankincense_. It was an odd observation she had made while they were a couple at Hogwarts. She missed that smell, and found herself at Mass every Sunday. Her grandmother was proud at her newly discovered piety, but Althea spent the entire service secretly thinking about him. Althea's eyes drifted from Sirius's chest, to his sleeping face, and back to his chest. She observed it slowly rise and fall beneath her, his strong heartbeat lulling her back to sleep. Her fingertips stroked the few fine black hairs upon his chest—she raised a sleepy eyebrow at them. _When did you develop those_, she wondered, _and that scar_? Sirius woke underneath her, his left hand stroking her hair and curling it between his fingers. Althea rolled onto her stomach, and rested her chin against her hand on his chest.

"Morning, lovely," he said, smiling softly, continuing to stroke her hair.

"Morning," she replied, smiling.

Sirius turned his head, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. "Only three hours until James and Lily marry," he said happily, but Althea noticed a small bit of sadness.

"But?"

Sirius laughed and casually ran his fingers through his hair. "You were always so bloody observant with me," he remarked, pinching her nose. "James married? Bloody hell," he sighed, raising his hands to his face.

"It is a bit scary," she replied, pulling his hands away from his face.

Sirius playfully frowned. "A bit scary? You have no idea," he replied, holding her tightly. "What we used to do…" he reminisced and sighed. "Now he's marrying."

"Well, some _do_ mature faster than others."

Sirius produced his distinct bark-like laugh, and she hoped that no one heard other than herself. "Yeah, James—mature," he replied, smiling as his fingers massaged the back of her head. "I like this."

"Us, you mean?"

Sirius nodded.

"I like it, too," she murmured and kissed his chest. She felt Sirius laugh underneath her lips and she smiled. "However," she said, lifting her head, "I have to go."

Althea sat up, much to the displeasure of Sirius. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Sirius," she said, slipping the nightgown over head, "it's three hours until the wedding. Lily has to dress and I have to dress."

"Three hours?" he snorted, sitting up. "It won't take you three hours. Come on," he added happily, patting the bed.

Althea shook her head as she stood from the bed. "Oh no, no. I'm not going back there," she replied, pointing to the bed. "I know what you'll do," she began, walking across the bedroom. "Althea, it won't take you three hours to get ready. It won't take you two. It won't take you one," she continued, attempting her best impersonation of Sirius. "Then it'll end with me, with my hair all astray, hopping down the aisle attempting to put on my shoe. While the groom never showed because he was still passed out, and the best man forgot his trousers," she finished, reaching for the doorknob.

Sirius attempted to hide a smirk. "Althea, I wouldn't forget a thing like trousers."

"Go and wake James," Althea sighed, opening the door. "I'll see you at the ceremony," she added and smiled. The next time she would see him would be at James and Lily's wedding ceremony.

Althea entered her bedroom to discover Lily, with her hair up in a towel, smiling at her. _No point in telling her_, she thought, walking toward Lily. _She already knows_. She had hoped Lily was still asleep when she entered her bedroom. Althea sat on the bed and watched Lily as she combed her wet hair. In three hours, her best friend would marry. _We're too young_, she thought. _Barely out of Hogwarts_.

"Althea, I'm getting married!"

"Are you nervous?" she asked, lying back on her bed.

"A little, but I'm more excited than anything," she answered, standing from the chair. She sat next to Althea and continued combing her hair. "I'm more interested in what transpired between you and a certain _best man_," she added, waving her comb at Althea. "It was the best man, wasn't it?"

Althea sighed. She was not sure what happened herself. "I suppose you could say we made up?"

"I suppose you could," she remarked, combing her hair. "It was just a matter of time. I win the bet."

Althea sat up and eyed her friend incredulously. "What do you mean by bet?" she asked, taking Lily's comb away.

Lily grabbed the comb and continued to comb her hair. "Oh, well, James, Remus, Peter, and I had a bet when the two of you will get back together. Of course, we wouldn't have thought it'd end up like that," she explained, smiling. "Peter picked never, Remus picked five years from now, James picked after our first child, and I picked the wedding," she said happily. "I get five Galleons from each of them."

Althea stood and walked toward the bathroom. "Lucky you."

"Indeed," Lily sighed. "What should I spend my Galleons on?"

Althea shrugged as she stepped through the bathroom doorway. _I didn't intend to sleep with him_, she thought as she loosened the porcelain knob. She stuck her fingers under the faucet and the warm water splashed through her fingertips. _I've just been so…lonely_. Althea frowned as she slipped the nightgown over her head. _How could I forget my knickers_? She carefully stepped into the bathtub. _God, I'm such a slag_. In truth, since she left Hogwarts, Sirius Black was the only man she had been with. He was safe and known. It seemed like a ritual. Every few weeks, when faced with mortality, Althea or Sirius would—it would seem—search out the other. Excuses were made with weak rationalizations—at least on Althea's part—but in fact, she enjoyed him. She enjoyed the scent of his skin, the taste of him, the twinge in her stomach in anticipation of him. He was always eager, and he touched her with same affection, his lips kissed her with the same hunger, as he did when she knew that he loved her.

Now Lily and James were to marry and where did that leave Althea and Sirius? Althea gulped at the thought of Sirius and his future wife (she was always so kind and wholesome and so absolutely wrong for him) at a Christmas gathering with Lily and James, which left Althea—always the too busy Healer—alone. How could he ever explain to that sickeningly perfect figment of Althea's imagination his passionate and involved history with Althea? There would be whispers of an engagement, wouldn't there? Althea narrowed her eyes—tired of her imagination. Lily would determine that perfect bitch was really a Death Eater and the two would subdue her and chuck her into Azkaban for the soul-sucking dementors.

After she bathed, she slipped into her bridesmaid dress. _Thank you, Lily for having wonderful taste_, she thought, observing the lavender fabric float and sway as she walked over to Lily. Lily sat on the edge of the bed with her bridal gown beside her.

"Why don't you have your dress on?" Althea asked, resting her hands on her hips.

Lily brought her knees to her chest. "I'm too nervous to fumble with the buttons," she said, staring at her knees.

"Too nervous?" she replied, sitting next to her. "What happened?" she asked, resting her hand on Lily's shoulder. "You've eaten something, haven't you?"

Lily took a deep breath. "Althea, your first time, what was it like?" she asked quietly, resting her chin against her knees.

Althea took her hand off Lily's shoulder. They had, hadn't they? Lily's uneasy expression confirmed they hadn't. Althea swallowed her disbelief.

"With Remus or with Sirius?" she asked uneasily.

"Both," she replied, turning her face toward Althea.

Frowning, Althea thought for a moment. "Remus, well, it was overwhelming I guess," she answered slowly. "He wasn't in his right mind, and I…I don't know," she continued, looking into Lily's eyes. "It wasn't anything romantic, if that's what you're wondering. We just got carried away."

Lily furrowed her eyebrows. "Do you regret it?" she asked, scratching her nose.

Althea sighed sadly. "I think we both do, but we're friends aren't we?" she replied, producing a weak smile.

"Much to Sirius's displeasure."

Althea frowned. "Sirius is an idiot," she replied and Lily faintly nodded. "Anyway, with Sirius, I would be lying to say that I wasn't nervous," she explained and Lily's eyes widened. "I knew it was something I wanted to do, but he surprised me—so, I was a little nervous."

"Really?"

Althea nodded. "He tried to be all romantic, but I ended up laughing. Then he started laughing…we couldn't stop laughing…. I enjoyed him very much."

Lily smiled. "So, you do regret it?"

"No, I don't regret it. I truly love him, Lily, you don't regret that sort of thing with the one you love."

"You said _love_," Lily responded, raising her head and smiling.

Althea smiled. "I did, didn't I," she replied and sighed. "I suppose that sort of thing must be good luck on a wedding day—if the best man and maid of honor sleep together, the marriage will be successful."

Lily laughed.

"Anyway, don't worry about tonight. Chances are James will faint when he sees you naked."

"Althea—" Lily began, but Althea interrupted.

"Oh, you better get dressed!" she said, standing. "We only have a half hour before the ceremony begins!"

* * *

Althea carried Lily's train as the two walked toward the rose garden. _What a beautiful day_, she thought, spreading Lily's train of lace across the grass. _They couldn't have charmed a better day—if that was possible_. Althea fixed Lily's hair and straightened her veil. She inspected her friend for the last time.

"Lily, you are so beautiful," she said, smiling.

Lily smiled nervously. "Thanks," she said, squeezing Althea's hands.

"Good luck," she whispered as she hugged Lily.

"What? Is something wrong? What do I need luck for?"

Althea laughed. "Lily, good luck that you don't trip over your wedding dress," she said, letting go of Lily. "Lily, everything's perfect."

_This is slightly surreal_, she thought as she walked down the aisle. She noticed the members from the Order, friends, and faculty at her sides. She turned to her left and waited for Lily's cue. Looking past a very pale James, Althea saw Sirius smile and wink at her. She smiled and winked back, causing his smile to widen. The music changed, and Althea's heart leapt forward. She turned and watched her best friend walk down the aisle and meet an extremely pale James. As the minister began the ceremony, she heard McGonagall sniffing in the third row. She thought of laughing at McGonagall, but soon found herself sniffing back tears as she watched the warm smiles exchanged between James and Lily.

_I can't believe my best friend is marrying_, she thought, looking as the two exchanged vows. _Here she is, marrying the man she loves. Me, I'm watching her, unsure where I go from here_, she thought, glancing at Sirius. Sirius too, was looking at her. Had he been staring at her the entire time? Althea turned her focus to Lily and James as they exchanged rings. Quickly, she let her eye flicker back to Sirius, who looked at the couple, and then at her with the faintest hint of sadness. Did he wish it were her standing there with him instead of James and Lily? Althea sighed as the minister presented the wedded couple to the audience. Sirius did not take his eyes off Althea as James and Lily kissed for the first time as a married couple. The happy couple walked down the aisle amid the cheers of the audience, and Althea and Sirius followed—Sirius slipping his arm around her waist.

Sirius, holding her closely to him, immediately guided her through the crowd of guests to James and Lily. The knot in her stomach had returned. Sirius was not looking at her. He was looking at the guests looking at them. _Why do I feel like property_, Althea thought as Sirius let go of her and hugged James. After his embrace with James, he immediately placed his arm around Althea's waist.

"I don't believe this," James said, gesturing at Sirius and Althea.

Althea smiled uneasily. "I don't believe it myself," she replied as Sirius squeezed her tightly.

Sirius laughed and leaned into James's ear. "Looks like you lost the bet, Prongs," he said jokingly and slapped James on the shoulder.

Althea's uneasy smile faded as James and Sirius continued to laugh. "I—I think I'll get something to drink," she muttered, prying Sirius's arm from her waist.

"Right," Sirius laughed and kissed her cheek.

Althea numbly took a sip of wine as she sat—watching the three laughing and having photographs taken. Nothing had changed. He had not matured and still treated her the same as he did at Hogwarts…as he did those twenty-three other nights when all he wanted was some girl to shag. It as safe and known and easy…she was easy. _He knew about the bet_, she thought, taking another sip of wine. She watched Sirius throw his head back in drunken laughter as another photograph was taken of the three. How long had he known about the bet? Was it some sort of joke to him? Althea frowned and took another sip. _I'm nothing more than a trophy to him…another possession_, she thought as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Maybe this was a mistake. Althea turned and smiled as Remus placed his glass of wine next to hers.

"Remus," she said as she smiled and stood. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "You know, you really should write more," she added, pulling away.

Remus smiled a tired smile. "Now, you know I can't do that," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Special work for the Order," he added and winked.

"'Special work for the Order,'" she teased, grabbing his arm. "You just find me incredibly boring," she added, pouting.

Remus laughed quietly. "You—boring—never," he said as the two walked to the dance floor.

As the two danced, Althea continued to watch Sirius from over Remus' shoulder. Sirius continued to laugh along with James as Lily chatted with Dorcas Meadowes. Suddenly, he turned his head and spotted Althea dancing with Remus. The smile slowly faded from his face as he continued to converse with James; however, his eyes never left the couple as they continued to dance platonically to the song. Althea frowned as his accusatory eyes burrowed into her skin. _Nothing has changed_, she thought as he continued to stare at her.

Althea took her eyes from Sirius. "Did Sirius know about the bet?"

A small crease appeared between Remus's eyebrows. "What bet, Althea?"

"Five Galleons on the day Sirius and I would get back together," she explained as a slightly inebriated couple bumped into them.

Remus was silent.

"_Remus_—"

"I believe he did," he said, frowning. "How did you know about the bet?"

"Lily told me this morning," she said and brought her gaze back to Sirius. "Everyone knew but me?" she asked, watching Sirius stare back at her.

Remus let out a quiet sigh.

"Was he in on the bet?"

Remus did not respond.

"Remus, was he in on the bet?" she asked, her voice slightly agitated.

"Yes, I believe he was."

"What day?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Remus was silent.

"What day, Remus?"

"Today, Althea, today," he said quietly. "Please, don't do anything rash," he pleaded as the song ended. "What he feels for you…it's genuine. I wouldn't lie to you. He was driving James mad this morning because he wouldn't keep quiet about you."

"But—"

"He loves you."

"But—"

"_He loves you_," he whispered and Althea blushed. "What more do you want?"

Althea heard Sirius's deliberate footsteps behind them. She quickly parted from Remus. She knew that Sirius did not understand their friendship—that since leaving Hogwarts and the death of Iphigenia it had been nothing more than a close, platonic relationship.

"Thanks for keeping my Althea company, Moony," Sirius said, slipping his arm around Althea's waist.

"Certainly," Remus replied calmly and walked away.

Sirius steered her away from the crowd and the dance floor, and walked her over to a large, ivy-covered arbor in the adjacent garden. _Maybe the bet meant nothing to him_, she thought, as Sirius brought his hand to her cheek. Althea noticed he had a long scar running the length of his hand.

Sirius gently stroked the side of her face. "I never would have thought James and Lily would have married," he said softly, resting his other hand on the small of her back. Althea could smell the enormous amount of alcohol on his breath—he was very drunk.

Althea rested her hand on top of his upper arm. "I know, but anything can happen," she answered, stroking his upper arm.

"Yes, anything can happen," he whispered, smiling.

Althea's stomach jolted forward. _Please, Sirius, not now_, she thought, smiling nervously.

Sirius slid his hand from her face to the back of her neck. "I couldn't help but think it should've been us with the minister today."

Althea's smile faded and she bit her lip.

Sirius rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I've changed, Althea. I realized what an idiot I was letting you go. I'm a good man, Althea. I love you," he whispered earnestly.

"I don't doubt that," she whispered, stroking the side of his face.

A smile emerged across Sirius's face. "There's a minister here," he said, opening his eyes. "We could bribe him to do another ceremony."

"Sirius, it's James and Lily's day," she said, pulling away from him.

"You're right. Maybe later tonight," he said hopefully and kissed her lips.

Althea brought her hands to his chest and pushed him away from her. "Sirius, no," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders. "You're very drunk."

"So? I'm thinking clearly."

Althea laughed humorlessly. "We just got back together, and now you want to get married? Slow down."

Sirius frowned. "Althea, we don't have forever. Not anymore," he replied, stroking the side of her face. "The work I do for the Order has shown me that."

"What do you see in the Order?"

"Too much," he sighed sadly. "I just know I can't spend another morning without you. I realized that this morning," he explained softly, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Marry me, if not today then someday," he said sincerely, staring into her eyes.

"You're drunk."

"I don't care."

Althea shook her head. "Last time, you thought of it five minutes before…and now you're drunk," she replied, stroking his warm cheek. "This isn't good."

"Someday, Althea," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

Althea sighed and kicked her foot against the soft ground. "Someday," she whispered uneasily.

Sirius laughed, hoisted her into the air, and twirled her around.

"Sirius! Sirius put me down!" she laughed, growing dizzy.

Sirius put her down and nuzzled her neck. "I have to tell James," he murmured happily, holding her tightly.

Althea rolled her eyes. "I said _someday_, Sirius, not next week."

"Yeah, but _someday_ means _yes_," he said, pulling away from her.

Althea sighed. "_Someday_ means _someday_, Sirius," she replied. "Someday five years from now or ten or twenty—"

"Or tomorrow," he interrupted and grinned.

Althea opened her mouth to protest, but frowned instead.

"Ah, but _someday_ doesn't mean _no_ either," he answered and pinched her nose. "Come on, let's go," he added, slipping his arm around her waist. "I'm starving."

Althea frowned as Sirius directed her toward the cake cutting ceremony. What had she done? Sirius stayed by Althea's side the entire afternoon—the resentment of his overprotective, obsessive, arrogant behavior bubbled inside her. His mannerisms betrayed him. She was his trophy. The thought that he, indeed, had chosen that day to make his move and win the bet, seethed inside her—partially consuming her from enjoying the wedding festivities. However, she maintained her smiles whenever in the presences of Lily, and assured her friend the melancholy tones to her mood were due to her marriage and the loss of childhood. On all accounts, the wedding ceremony and reception were tremendous successes, and all who attended were content. The audience cheered as Lily and James flew off into the early summer evening to their honeymoon in Morocco.

Exhausted from the day's events, Althea walked into the library and sat on the couch. Picking up one of her father's travel diaries, she began to read; however, her mind was jolted out of reading as Sirius had entered the room. He leapt over the couch and sat next to her—his arm immediately sliding around her shoulders. Althea placed the book on the table next to her and turned her attention toward Sirius.

"I couldn't help but think about us," he whispered, between kisses on her neck. "I'm back with my love and she's all mine," he whispered, sliding his other arm around her waist.

"Sirius," Althea said, pushing him away, "not now, right."

"Right," Sirius replied, running his fingers through his hair. "We'll take it upstairs then," he added and winked, "or to your cottage?"

"No, Sirius," she sighed and Sirius frowned—Sirius despised the word _no_.

"Right then," he said, biting the inside of his cheek. "What do you have in mind?"

Althea sighed. "You took part in the bet," she said, staring into his eyes.

Sirius's eyes flickered disappointment. "Oh," he replied, frowning. "Who told you?" he asked as he stood.

"It doesn't matter," she said, standing as well. "I just wanted to tell you it hurt me. It makes me question whether you wanted to get back with me or just win a bet."

Althea realized Sirius had not listened to her when he replied, "Remus—wasn't it? Remus told you."

"I asked him, Sirius. He didn't want to tell, but I wouldn't let him lie."

"I shouldn't have let him dance with you," he muttered, pacing back and forth.

Althea's eyes widened. "Dance with me? Sirius, no one needs _your_ permission to dance with me."

Sirius's jaw tightened. "You're _my_ Althea," he said through gritted teeth.

Althea shook her head. "I am not your property, Sirius."

Sirius frowned. "You are my fiancée, does that mean anything to you?"

"Sirius, I am _not_ your fiancée," she replied, folding her arms. "I didn't say yes, I said _someday_; however, the way you're acting it's a _no_."

"You're so selfish—you can't change your mind!" he said and slammed his hand on the table. "I won't let you!"

Althea's body jolted from the shock of his words. "Let me? _Let me_?" she replied, unfolding her arms. "You know, you haven't changed. You're the same pompous, twisted, jealous, obsessive individual I broke up with! You never _let_ me go. _I was never yours to let go. You don't own me_. You can't own people, Sirius."

Sirius laughed. "_Well your family did_," he scoffed—a self-serving grin across his face.

"A long time ago, Sirius, a long time ago, and it was wrong," she said, clenching her fists at her sides.

"Built this ridiculous house, didn't it?"

"Shut up."

"Only give a damn when it suits you—"

"Shut _up_."

Sirius growled as he ran his fingers through his hair—tugging at it briefly. "Can't you see that I love you!" he shouted, frustrated, and kicked the table.

"You _are_ touched in the head."

Sirius gave her a murderous stare.

"One minute you want to smother me with affection and the next you want to smother me to death. Which is it, Sirius? You don't know the first thing about love. You don't know the first thing about relationships. You are a lonely, insecure little boy who refuses to grow up. Well, I'm not going to feel sorry for you anymore. Oh, poor little Sirius Black who left his evil mummy and his evil family—"

"FEEL SORRY FOR ME?" Sirius growled, picking up a vase and throwing it against the fireplace.

Althea did not have time to watch it shatter and fall to the ground as Sirius had picked up a nearby antique chair and threw it across the room—it breaking apart as it hit a shelf of books. The force of the collision caused the shelf books to fall to the ground.

"Breaking my furniture now, are you? Go ahead."

"You're a coward!" he shouted, pointing his finger at her. "A bloody coward. If anyone should have joined the Order it should have been you, but you're afraid."

Althea laughed mirthlessly. "Me? A coward? Well, I have nothing to _prove_, do I?" she remarked, a wicked smile emerging across her face. "Always have to _prove_ you're not like your family. Always have to _prove_ that you're not your brother, or your cousin, or your cousin's husband, or your other cousin's husband, well, you get the point," she said, turning her attention to the book on the table next to Sirius.

Sirius noticed her newly directed attention. "What's this?" Sirius asked, pointing to a book on the table.

"Nothing."

"Oh, I think it is _something_," he said, picking up the book. "Oh, one of your father's diaries," he said, flipping through the pages.

"_Put that down_, Sirius," she demanded, the tone of her voice turning anxious.

Sirius laughed and loudly closed the diary. "I wonder what your father would have thought of you shagging a werewolf?" he asked, folding his arms. "He did write about them—didn't he? I bet he would have thought you a right little daughter—"

"Don't speak of my father!"

"Really now, you dragged my family into it. It's only fair," he said, unfolding his arms. "I wonder what he would have thought of us, what do you think? If a Death Eater hadn't killed him the news of his _pregnant_ daughter would have."

"Don't you dare—"

"Lily told me the story about our baby."

The blood drained from Althea's furious face.

"She told me you discovered in January. She found you crying in the bathroom—"

Althea's body shuddered.

"Of course you were frightened, waiting for the right moment to tell me. You saw me playing with Nymphadora, saw what a _good father_ I'd be, and decided to tell me. Only, you didn't tell me," he continued and mockingly rubbed his chin. "That's right, you didn't tell me because you miscarried a month later," he said, walking closer to her, "in February…_not_ March."

Why would Lily tell Sirius? She secretly cursed her best friend. _She probably told James_, she thought, _and he couldn't hide it from Sirius_.

"And I'm glad too. I wouldn't want anything half yours growing inside me."

"You didn't feel that way at the time, did you? You were _devastated_," he said and laughed. "Of course, I have to wonder _if that was my child_ in the first place."

Althea grabbed her father's diary from him. "Leave now, Sirius," she said coldly. "There will be no more bets because I never want to see you again."

Sirius frowned. "Because of you I'm out of getting ten Galleons."

Althea fought every urge of plunging the fire poker into his heart. "On my father's grave, Sirius, I wish you were dead because if a Death Eater doesn't kill you, be assured I will. Now leave."

"Fine," Sirius sighed. With a deafening _crack_, he was gone.

Althea sighed and sank onto her sofa.

"You're an idiot and a slag," she murmured, resting her hand upon where Sirius once sat. "Maybe I can pick up an extra shift at St. Mungo's tonight."


	38. Althea's Cottage, February 1980

**Althea's Cottage, February 1980**

"Wonderful, another letter," Althea said aloud as she looked at the note tied around Gabriel's leg.

Frowning, she carefully untied the letter, scratched Gabriel's head, and watched as her owl flew out of the open window. Shivering, she closed the window and blew on her hands to warm them. Looking out the window, she smiled at her small garden that housed an assortment of birdhouses and birdfeeders, to comfort wintering birds and other various small animals. She turned from the window and gazed appreciatively at her small and drafty cottage. She despised the main house, its grandiose paintings and furniture, and sought to live in the small cottage on the farthest part of her estate. _I'm still not used to English winters_, she thought, walking toward the phonograph. Raising the needle from the record, she flipped the record to the other side, placed the needle back on the record, and tapped the phonograph with her wand.

Althea sighed as she flung herself back onto her sofa. _Thankfully, this doesn't look like a letter from Sirius_, she thought, tearing open the envelope. _I believe he understood after my last reply_. After the incident in the library, Sirius sent her letters apologizing for his behavior and what a mistake he had made. As time passed, the letters became infrequent, and she refused to reply to any of his letters, and finally, on Christmas Eve, she sent her reply—a tastefully wrapped box that housed a bag of ten Galleons—to him. Christmas morning, Althea woke to Sirius's voice yelling throughout her cottage in the form of a Howler. As she attempted to walk away from the Howler, Sirius's voice commanded her not to walk away, which prompted her to laugh. The Howler followed her throughout the cottage as she continued to prepare for a small Christmas party—Althea sighing and rolling her eyes every time Sirius mentioned for her not to walk away and to listen to him. Althea promptly wrote him back asking him if that was all and to please refrain from sending a Howler so early in the morning as it affected her sleep. Lily owled Althea immediately and disclosed that Sirius had spent the better part of the Christmas evening blasting holes through her pictures. It was the last of the contact between Sirius and Althea, except for the occasional run-in in Godric's Hollow, which the only conversations between them were the occasional grunt and tense nod.

Opening the letter, she realized it was from Lily. James and Lily would visit her later that afternoon. Whatever happiness she felt from the news, her mood dampened when she thought James or Lily would let Sirius's name slip into the conversation. It was an attempt for the two to begin the reconciliation between Sirius and Althea. However, it was never that reconciliation of friendship. No, it was always something more, and it was that something more that bothered Althea. Why could they not understand that her relationship with Sirius was beyond any form of reconciliation? Why could Lily not be like Althea? She had concluded long ago that any relationship with him was not worth salvaging, and that Sirius was beyond any form of mutual love. To her, Sirius was incapable of love, and only thought of her as a possession—something to be admired, to be protected, and to be hoarded. She was not a porcelain doll to be kept on a shelf, or pet to be looked after—she was a woman, a woman who wanted to be treated as an equal partner. Althea sighed. _He only treated me like an equal partner when we hated each other_, she thought as she heard the doorbell. Dropping the letter on the sofa, she stood and opened the door.

"Lily…James," Althea said happily, hugging each of them. "Why didn't you Apparate? Or use Floo?" she asked, closing the door behind them.

Lily and James smiled. "We have our reasons," Lily said, continuing to smile.

Althea continued to smile. "Please, sit down," she said, pointing to her sofa. Lily and James sat. "Would you like something to drink? Butterbeer, perhaps?" she asked, walking toward the kitchen.

"Oh, no Butterbeer for me," Lily replied. "I'll have some water, thanks."

Althea frowned as she returned with two Butterbeers and a glass of water. "So, when did you start turning down Butterbeer?" Althea asked, taking a sip of Butterbeer.

James and Lily shared a smile. "Just recently," she replied, nudging James' side.

Althea sighed and looked at the bottle. "I suppose this isn't very healthy, is it?" she asked and took another sip. "One could get fat on this stuff," she added as James snickered. "What's so—"

Althea slowly opened her eyes. _What happened_, she thought and noticed her hands were bound behind her. She attempted to speak, but realized a gag had been placed in her mouth. _What the hell is going on_, she thought darkly, looking at James and Lily. Lily held Althea's wand in her hand and James stood next to Lily, laughing. She felt a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach at the brief idea that the couple that stood before her were Death Eaters disguised as James and Lily. Could Death Eaters be so clever?

"I'm sorry Althea, but this had to be done," Lily said, twirling Althea's wand in her fingers.

Althea growled as she struggled against the chair.

"Now, now, Althea, you'll have the gag out of your mouth shortly," James replied, smiling.

Althea heard the sound of an approaching motorbike.

"Ah, he's here," he added happily. "I told him we were in trouble."

Althea watched as Sirius burst through the front door—his wand ready. His face pale, he opened his mouth to speak as he recognized James. James muttered an apology and a jet of orange light struck Sirius in the forehead. Althea laughed through her gag as Sirius fell into her coffee table and rolled onto the floor. James lifted Sirius into the chair opposite her, bound him, and gagged him. Althea frowned—what were they planning?

James revived Sirius. "No use to struggle, mate," he said, slapping Sirius on the back.

Sirius growled under his gag and continued to struggle.

Lily stepped forward. "And no use to transform," she said, looking at the both of them. "You won't be able to escape."

"Now, we brought you both together for a special reason," he said, folding his arms. "We want you two _to get over yourselves_," he added, eyeing both of them.

Althea narrowed her eyes at Sirius, as they both continued to struggle.

"Would you stop struggling!" James said, exasperated, waving his arms.

Despite James's plea, the two continued to struggle.

_I can't stand another minute in the same room with him_, she thought, not taking her eyes off Sirius.

James ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "I don't believe this! I've never met anyone else as stubborn as you two!" he shouted, frustrated. "I can't take this! It's not even stubbornness! It's pride. Do you really have that much to be proud about?"

"Please, James, it's not working." Lily folded her arms, her lower lip trembling. "Stop it, the both of you," she said, looking at Althea and Sirius. "You need to get along."

Althea and Sirius laughed underneath their gags. Althea struggled with more fervor. She was determined to free herself before Sirius. How she loathed at what he would say! '_Can't free yourself from some simple ropes, Morrigan? Such the weak witch, aren't you_?' she thought and growled.

"_Please_!" Lily pleaded. "If not for us, then for the baby."

Althea and Sirius stopped struggling. _A baby_, Althea thought, looking into Lily's eyes. Lily nodded. _James and Lily having a baby? I don't believe this_, she thought, looking upon Lily who rested her hand against her stomach. _We're so…so young_. Althea started to hop up and down in an attempt to have them remove her gag. Sirius remained very still as James removed his gag.

Lily removed Althea's gag. "A baby?"

Lily smiled.

"A boy or a girl?" she asked, smiling.

"A boy," James answered happily.

_A boy_, she thought, refusing to look in Sirius's direction. She remembered the blue patch upon her bare abdomen. _We were supposed to have a boy, too_.

"Wow," Sirius spoke quietly, and Althea felt his eyes on her skin.

"We want you to be our son's godparents," Lily said as James placed his arm around her waist. "That's why we need you to get along," she said, her lower lip trembling. "You're all I have now, Althea. I love you too much to let this continue."

"It's right tiresome," James said and scratched his chin.

"We're leaving you here for a while," she said as Sirius refused to look at Althea. "You must work out whatever is between you…if not for our sakes, for our son. There is enough heartache and hatred in this world."

"Right, Lily," James said and nodded toward the door.

Lily nodded. "Good luck."

The two sat in silence, refusing to look at one another. _Lily, having a baby_, Althea thought, looking at the pattern on her skirt. _Me—a godmother with Sirius as the godfather? What are they thinking? That poor boy, it will never work_, she thought, as she heard Sirius shift in his chair.

"Lily and James…a baby?"

Althea swallowed a breath. "Don't start Sirius."

"Start what?" he asked defensively. "I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were," she interrupted heatedly. "You were going to make a comment about—"

"About what, Althea? What was I going to comment about?"

"Never mind," she sighed, shaking her head. "I don't want to speak to you, anyway."

"Do you think I want to be here?" he sneered. "How could James do this to me?" he groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

Althea sighed from annoyance. "Why would you come here anyway? You're not wanted here," she remarked, struggling against her bindings.

"He sent an emergency message saying the three of you were in trouble," he explained, struggling as well.

"And you believed him?" she asked wryly, raising an eyebrow.

"I came here because I thought James and Lily were in trouble. I didn't come here for you. I could care less about you," he replied quickly, looking away from her.

"Really? What about 'Althea, please, I never apologize, but please forgive me. I need you'?" she asked, wishing him to fall over as he struggled underneath his bindings. "Yeah, you needed me like you needed that redhead in October—convincing argument, Sirius, for me taking you back."

Sirius stopped struggling and directed his attention once more to Althea. "No, I think you're the one—remember Halloween? Yeah, I went with that redhead to get away from you, don't you remember? Oh, no, you don't," he explained and smiled darkly. "You don't remember because you were too pissed and passed out after you thoroughly propositioned me in James and Lily's bedroom. What sort of person would do that—and who, _who_ would send a box of ten Galleons for Christmas?" he continued and bit the inside of his cheek.

"What about blasting holes through my pictures?"

"Do you think I'd want to keep them?" he snorted and laughed. "You're just upset because I'm over you."

Althea laughed off his comment louder than she should have. "Right, Sirius. Every time a wizard shows the slightest interest in me—he's scared away."

Sirius laughed as well. "Don't blame me for that," he remarked, still shaking his head from laughter. "You're bloody mental. I should receive an Order of Merlin because I had dated you so long."

Althea inhaled deeply at his stinging remark. "I'm mad for dating you in the first place. However at least I had something of a date when I dated you. Now it's a nice bit of skirt and a knee trembler behind the pub," she replied derisively and smiled wickedly as Sirius frowned.

"Why do you have to be so bloody difficult?" he bemoaned and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.

Althea laughed, which caused Sirius to look at her. "So, speaking my mind is being difficult?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sirius, when did you become so pig-headed?"

Sirius leaned his chair back on two legs. "When did you become your Gran?" he remarked, smirking. "Aren't you too young to be _a bitter old woman_?"

Althea sighed as Sirius's smirk broadened. "Now I know why your parents loved Regulus more," she said with a cruel smile.

The front legs of Sirius's chair slammed against the wooden floor. Althea's smile widened.

"Did I say something to upset you?" she asked in feigned innocence.

Sirius threw his head back and sighed angrily. "Why must you be such a bloody bitch?" he asked and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Because it's the only time you ever treat me like an equal."

Sirius raised his head and stared at her. "What are you talking about?" he snorted.

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes. "An _equal_, Sirius. I'm not feeble and I don't need to be protected. When we were together you treated me as if I were your property, as if I were another possession of yours. I wasn't a pet."

"I know you're not a pet," he said dismissively.

"Why then—why did you explode when Remus danced with me? Sirius, I would never think of cheating on you," she said earnestly and bit her bottom lip. "How could you think that I—that I would do such a thing?"

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek.

"Sirius, I was your lover—not his," she said, furrowing her eyebrows. "I was _your_ Althea."

"I know," he said quietly, lowering his head. He swallowed. "You never looked at me like that. You never—"

"Look at me."

Sirius lifted his head.

"Am I now, or have I ever dated Remus since that time fifth-year?"

"No."

"I was to marry you, Sirius," she said, looking into his grey eyes. "I wanted you and no one else. I fought at your side against those Death Eaters—"

"I just didn't want to lose you," he muttered, looking away from her.

"Lose me? The way you acted you lost me," she replied, frowning.

"No," he said, still looking away from her. "_Lose_ you."

Althea sighed. "You mean _die_, Sirius. You didn't want me to _die_," she said and saw him wince at the word _die_. "Of course I'm going to die. We'll all die eventually," she continued plainly, despite Sirius wincing again.

Sirius continued to look in the direction of the phonograph—the record was now over, but needle continued to play the crackling noises of the finished record.

"Some earlier than others," he muttered darkly.

The boyish, jovial look to Sirius's face was gone. He grimly stared ahead of him. Althea acutely knew what Sirius felt for she felt it at St. Mungo's after every raid and every attack—the futility in staving off death and the tenuous thread of life one clung to.

"What the bloody hell have you seen?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows as Sirius refused to look at her. "Sirius? Sirius, what have you seen?"

Sirius refused to answer.

"Fine, then," she sighed, continuing to look at Sirius, "let me tell you a story."

Sirius directed his attention from the phonograph and down to his shoes. She was about to tell him a story she had never spoken to anyone else, excluding Lily.

"When I was four, my parents returned to England—I guess my father had some Ministry job or something," she began, attempting to regain Sirius's attention. "When we returned to England, we stayed in this very cottage, actually."

Sirius refused to look at her; however, she knew he was listening.

"The summer of my fifth birthday—June, actually—I was playing in this very room with my mum and Marie, my nanny. Did you ever meet her, Marie, I mean?"

Sirius shook his head. Althea took a deep breath—her breath shaking slightly.

"I heard a loud crash, and my mum made Marie hide me in that cupboard over there," she said, motioning with her head toward the cupboard.

She saw Sirius turn his gaze toward the cupboard.

"I, of course, didn't want to leave my mum, but she forced me…. She told me it would be all right and she loved me…. She told me to let go of her and, like an idiot, I did—"

"You were four."

Althea nodded. "Marie threw me in the cupboard, put her body on top of me, put her hand over my mouth, and told me to shut my eyes," she said slowly, and took a deep breath. "But I didn't close my eyes...I heard my mother plead for her life, I heard her scream, and I saw a green flash," she said, looking at Sirius—an odd shiver passed over Sirius's face.

"Your mother was murdered?"

Althea nodded. "You've seen it, too."

Sirius nodded, but refused to look at her. "I saw it the summer after Hogwarts—about two months out of Hogwarts. I was out on assignment with Samuel Starkey," he said, and inhaled a slow, deep breath. "It was a trap—I should have known it was a trap—and we were ambushed…. I screamed for him to duck, but it was too late."

Two months out of Hogwarts. Althea swallowed. Upon leaving St. Mungo's for the night, she happened upon Sirius at the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed as though an accident the two should meet, and Althea would have ignored him, but she could not ignore the defeated look upon his face. She needed comforting, too—an attack upon a Muggle family was particularly gruesome. She spent the night in Sirius's flat. It was the first of twenty-three nights.

"Then, four weeks before James and Lily's wedding, I chatted up Lucretia Sheldon—very pretty brunette," he said quietly. "We had a date for later that week…. I had talked with her ten minutes before…then…" he stopped and sighed, swallowing a breath.

Althea's heart jolted at the word _date_.

"She was blown up," he finished and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Good lord, Sirius."

Sirius grunted.

"These aren't the only things you've seen. I know you've seen more."

"I have, Althea, " he said and sighed. "Terrible things."

"Things you can't talk to James about," she replied and Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Sirius if there is one person in the world James Potter looks up to, it's you. It always has been. You don't want to worry James. He has enough, right? Has to worry about Lily, the fact their marriage is frowned upon, whatever he does in the Order, and then whatever Lily does in the Order. You have to remain cool for him, but the idea that your best friend might not come back frightens you beyond anything you've ever felt before."

"The idea that anyone I care about won't be here five minutes from now frightens me," he said quietly, looking into her eyes. "I don't know how James does it sometimes…bloody hell, why am I telling you this?"

"Because you know I'd be truthful and call you an idiot," she replied, attempting levity. "However, I have to admit, you're far from an idiot," she said and Sirius laughed softly. "But, you have to live your life, Sirius," she said and hopped her chair closer to him. "Don't let death rule your life."

She watched as the words slowly filtered through Sirius' skin.

Sirius smiled weakly. "You know, if you hop behind me, I could untie your hands and you could untie mine."

"Right," she replied and hopped behind him.

Untying each other's hands, they quickly untied their own legs. Althea rubbed her wrists as she walked over to the sofa. Sirius followed and sat next to her—an odd silence enveloped the room. _So, where do we go from here_, she thought as Sirius cleared his throat.

Althea closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I've said those awful things to you," she added, opening her eyes. "I've treated you horribly."

Sirius sighed. "I'm sorry, too," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I've treated you terribly. You never deserved any of it."

"I don't want you back," she said and Sirius's expression did not betray disappointment or relief. "I mean—we've tried—it's just...it won't work, I think."

Sirius shrugged. "I know."

"So," she said, nodding her head.

"So," he replied, nodding his head.

"Friends, then?" she asked, raising and eyebrow.

Sirius laughed quietly. "That's something we haven't tried," he replied, smiling. "I believe that could work."

_Friends, what an odd concept with Sirius_, she thought, staring at his smiling face. Friendship with Sirius was something new and awkward. _Maybe that's what we're meant to be, friends_.

Althea laughed. "So we're friends?"

"I'm just as shocked by these events as you are."

Althea sighed and leaned back into the sofa. "You know, they could come back at any time now," she said, mischievously looking at Sirius.

"You want to be rid of me?" he laughed, lying back into the sofa.

"Yes, actually," she said, resting her feet on the coffee table. "It's my only day off."

"How is your job as a Healer?" he asked, resting his feet on the coffee table.

She felt a new pleasant twinge in her stomach. Is this how friendship with Sirius would be? _He's trying_, she thought, the twinge exploding in her belly at the realization that Sirius Black would want nothing more. _Make the effort_.

Althea looked up at the ceiling. "I love it," she replied, smiling. "However, I complete my Midwife training in April, and I plan to do that full-time instead. I'll have more of a life," she added, turning her face toward him. "Well, not so much more of a life, just a different one. I'm tired of putting wizards, witches, and Muggles back together for their funerals. That's not a Healer's job. I'm not a mortician."

"Right," he murmured, furrowing his eyebrows. "I hadn't thought about what you've seen. I'm out there fighting, but you're at St. Mungo's attempting to save their lives…even if they are Death Eaters."

"Even if," she repeated softly. "I've had to help a Death Eater, too—worst day so far. Everything told me not to help her—I knew that she had killed Muggles for sport and I knew that if she had the chance, she'd kill me."

"Lily mentioned that," he replied, folding his arms. "I don't know if I could have done it."

Althea turned her body toward Sirius and rested her head against the sofa. "Have you killed?" she asked, looking at the side of his face.

Sirius nodded solemnly and Althea felt her stomach convulse. "Once…he was about to kill James so I got him first."

"With an Unforgivable?"

"Oh no, no," he replied quickly, shaking his head. "I blasted him across the room and he was impaled on a broken wall sconce."

"Oh," she murmured. "Has James?"

"No," he replied and ran his fingers through his hair. "I doubt they'll want a killer as the godfather to their baby."

Althea frowned. _How could they even think of bringing a child into this world_, she thought, her frown increasing. _James is off on dangerous missions, not to mention Lily…. I know they've escaped Voldemort twice so far—barely with their lives_.

"Do you think this baby was planned?" she asked, resting her hand underneath her cheek.

Sirius's head jolted backward. "Planned?"

"Yeah, like they decided they wanted a child so—"

"Oh right, yeah," Sirius interrupted, nodding. "I don't know. I know James had talked about children, but I didn't know they'd want one so soon."

"I know I couldn't have a child during this or marry," she replied, turning her body so her back rested against the sofa. "Not until he's is dead. I'd be worried sick about my husband and children until then."

"That could be years, Althea. His numbers are growing and show no signs of stopping. Even those that don't agree are too afraid," he explained soberly and looked at his hands. "I could never either, though. I'm an enormous target and I'd never, _never_ forgive myself if anything would happen to my family."

"What about the Order? Isn't that growing?" she asked and Sirius shook his head. "Maybe I should have joined when Dumbledore asked me."

"No," he replied resolutely, looking into her eyes.

Wouldn't Dumbledore want her help? Maybe the Order was not meant for Healers. However, she was not about to let Sirius tell her what to do.

"Sirius, I know there are things that go on at St. Mungo's that aren't right. A Muggle-born witch had a broom accident and had a broken arm—not even that terrible of a break. I treated her—Sirius—all she had was a broken arm. She left dead. I know there are Death Eaters posing as Healers. I could find—"

"No," he replied firmly. "It's too dangerous and you're all Lily has."

"I'll still tell—"

"_I'll_ tell Dumbledore," he interrupted, resting his hand on hers, but realized his action and pulled it away.

"Right," she sighed, frowning. "Well, if any member is injured, they can come to me for healing," she offered. Before Sirius could protest she continued, "Speaking of Healers, there is a very cute Healer-in-Training in Creature-Induced Injuries."

"Really?" he laughed, turning his face toward her.

"Come on," she urged and winked. "She's very cute—petite, auburn hair, brown eyes. She likes Quidditch."

Sirius sighed and furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "I don't know," he answered unsteadily. "I'm taking on extra work for the Order—"

"Come on," she said, nudging his arm.

"Althea, I haven't dated in a long time, and I have no time," he said thoughtfully and patted her hand. "Nothing happened with that redhead either—except my nodding off. A truly boring girl."

Althea furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "Right, maybe there's someone cute in the Order, then?"

Sirius frowned. "They're all _old_—well, except for Persephone but none of us have seen her for a while," he replied, and furrowed his eyebrows as if making a mental note of her absence. "Could you imagine me dating McGonagall? Disgusting. Or worse, Arabella Figg and all her cats," he remarked, pulling a face. "It would be like you dating Mad-Eye."

"What? I sort of like Mad-Eye," she joked, suppressing her laughter. "I always make sure I wear my best knickers when he's round."

Sirius's bark-like laugh echoed throughout the room. "I see him after this, you know," he replied and winked.

"So? He would agree with you," she replied and winked back. "I always wear my best knickers."

_Good lord, I don't believe I'm having a normal conversation with Sirius_, she thought as Sirius continued to laugh. _This is decidedly strange_.

"Anyway, what do you think about being a godmother?" he asked, nudging her arm.

Althea frowned as she realized what James and Lily were truly asking. She could not be the child's godmother. If something happened to James and Lily, the responsibility for caring for the child would fall to Sirius _and_ Althea. _Sirius and me_, she thought, biting her bottom lip, _not just me—Sirius and me. Sirius and I would forever care for the child, together…. Oh, they're sneaky—using this as an opportunity to have us get back together_.

"I—I can't," she said quietly, looking at her hands in her lap.

"What do you mean you can't?" he asked, turning to face her. "Come on, look at me. What do you mean you can't be that child's godmother?" he demanded, staring intently at her.

Althea felt uncomfortable and was not sure if her reply would cause Sirius to react out of anger.

"Lily is your best friend and James is mine. What else is there?"

Althea sighed nervously as she turned to face him. After swallowing a breath she asked, "Do you know what they're asking us?"

"Yes, to be his godparents—"

"No, what they're really asking us," she said solemnly. "If something would happen to Lily and James _we_ would have to raise the child," she explained, waiting for her words to register with him.

"Of course, if something happened, we…" Sirius began, but paused and shook his head. "Bloody hell, they won't stop!" he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"I can't believe they would trust us to raise their son, while we haven't been able to have a conversation without the threat of bodily harm in ages."

"We're having one now," he replied thoughtfully.

"But think about it, Sirius. Ten years from now, what if something happened to Lily and James? We would be thrown together to raise their child—maybe children. The truce we have now is still very new. You could do something completely stupid that ruins it and we might not be talking to each other ten years from now. What a horrible position those children would be in," she explained as Sirius narrowed his eyes.

"_Me_ do something completely stupid?" he remarked and frowned. "Anyway, I have to agree with you. We can't let them win."

"Exactly."

"However, we should be fair about it," he replied and reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a Galleon. "Flip for it?"

"Right," she replied and nodded her head. "Heads," she called as Sirius flipped the coin.

Both checked the coin at the same time and Althea smiled.

"Congratulations, godfather," she said, nudging him in the arm.

"Thanks," he replied, smiling weakly. "You're not upset, are you?"

"Oh no, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not the mother type."

"No, you are. You'd be a great mother," he reassured—his smile broadening. "You'd be cute all plump and pregnant."

"Thanks," she breathed with a small smile. "Even if that was an odd compliment."

"What about me?" he encouraged, raising an eyebrow.

"What about you?"

"Would I be a great father?" he asked, leaning closer to her.

Althea frowned slightly. At Hogwarts, she had worried that same thing—would Sirius be a great father? She knew he would be great fun with children, but he lacked the responsibility and discipline needed for a father. However, she did not want to hurt his feelings now as he celebrated his role as godfather.

"Oh, well…I suppose," she lied.

"You suppose?" he laughed, throwing back his head with more laughter.

Althea did not think her response very amusing. "Anyway," she began loudly and Sirius turned his attention toward her, "how disappointed do you think they will be?"

"Very, but they'll get over it…after we tell them that we saw through their plan and in the end it is better this way…well maybe not if I'm the godfather," he replied and frowned.

"You'll do a great job," she said, resting her hand on his forearm. "Just remember not to drop the baby."

"I won't drop the baby," he replied dismissively.

"What about the time you watched Nymphadora?" she asked and Sirius made a face. "When you threw her up into the air, she hit her head on the ceiling, landed crying, and you Apparated to get me? 'Althea, Nymphadora—she won't stop crying—she hit her head.' And when I asked how she hit her head, you replied, 'I threw her,'" she explained and attempted not to laugh as Sirius sank lower into the sofa. "Other than that, you'll do fine."


	39. Althea's Cottage, Late June 1980

**Althea's Cottage, Late June 1980**

"Do you have any questions?" Althea asked, pulling Lily's shirt down over her pregnant stomach.

Lily grunted as she attempted to sit up. "Is there any way of speeding this pregnancy thing up?" she asked, adjusting her shirt.

Althea laughed as she sat next to her friend. "Unfortunately, no," she replied, smiling. "You wouldn't want to have the baby now."

Lily sighed, resting her hands behind her. "This boy is so active," she said, looking down at her stomach.

"Well, he is a Potter."

Lily frowned. "I know, as soon as he comes out of the womb he'll be put on a broom," she replied, rubbing her hand over her stomach. "He wants a Quidditch team."

"With who?" Althea laughed—her eyes widening.

"Exactly," she murmured and winced. "I swear, he kicks me on purpose."

Althea rested her hand on Lily's stomach. "At least when you sneeze, you don't explode any cauldrons," she remarked and felt a strong kick by the baby. "Bloody hell, he's not going to be a Chaser, he's going to be a Beater."

"His godfather will be very pleased," she replied and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, if he buys our baby another toy, we'll have no more room for us."

"I did my best last Saturday—"

"Last Saturday?" Lily interrupted eagerly—raising her eyebrows.

Althea sighed as she placed her hands in her lap. "We met for lunch," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "That's all."

An eager smile enveloped Lily's face. "It went well, then?"

"Yes, of course," she answered and laughed nervously. "We're not getting back together. We're friends," she explained, awkwardly stroking the blanket. "Anyway, he has Astrid now."

Lily laughed loudly, causing Althea to frown slightly.

"I wouldn't laugh, she could be your baby's godmother."

"Ugh," Lily replied, covering her face with her hands.

"She could be your new best friend," Althea teased in a singsong voice.

Lily peeked through her fingers. "And you could be her Midwife," she teased, lowering her hands and smiling mischievously.

Althea was about to reply when she heard a loud crash in her drawing room. "Stay here," she whispered, quickly taking her wand from her robe pocket.

Suddenly James burst into the guest bedroom—his face and hands bruised and bloodied. "Althea, we—we need you," he said out of breath, leaning against the doorway.

"Oh my God!" Lily gasped, attempting to stand.

"No, Lily, stay here," she demanded, resting a firm hand on Lily's shoulder. "It'll be all right."

Althea quickly walked over to James, who was slowly sliding down the doorway—his robes splattered with blood, leaving blood smears along the door. Lifting him up, she walked him into the drawing room. Immediately, as she entered the drawing room, Althea gasped—Sirius, his robes soaked in blood, lay on the sofa with a bruised Peter behind him.

"What—what happened?"

"Just help him," James said, slumping into a chair.

Althea walked to Sirius' side. He lay before her groaning and writhing in pain. She recognized the acrid smell and realized they had very little time before the potion worked throughout his body. The potion had eaten its way through his clothes and now ate away at the flesh over his hip. _There's no way I can help him_, she thought as she eyed him on the sofa. _Babies and broom injuries I can handle, but this? He needs a specialist Healer in burns and potions, not me_.

"Peter, take Lily home," she said, not taking her eyes off Sirius.

She could feel Peter hesitate.

"Take Lily home," she demanded as Sirius groaned. Althea felt herself paralyzed. What was she to do? Her Sirius lay before her; his chances for survival diminished with each second that passed. "Do it…_now_."

Peter nodded and walked into the guest room.

"James, what happened?" Althea asked as Peter ushered Lily out of the cottage.

Lily stopped and fought against Peter. "Sirius—James—what happened to him?" she questioned and Althea quickly turned toward Lily. "It wasn't—oh God!" she breathed and covered her mouth. Her eyes met Althea.

"I'll help him," Althea said and gestured for Peter to take hold of Lily. "Go home."

Lily let out a small sob and nodded.

Althea returned her gaze to Sirius. "What happened?" she asked, but Althea knew that potion too well. She had seen the effects of the ingested potion at St. Mungo's—the burned, peeling skin. Her stomach turned at the fate of Sirius.

"We were ambushed. He pushed me out of the way as a Death Eater threw the potion," James explained, attempting to stand. "Althea, you need to help him."

Althea shook her head. "James, he needs to go to St. Mungo's."

"No! I…can't!" Sirius shouted, grimacing from the pain.

"He's right. St. Mungo's will suspect. You have to treat him here," James pleaded, grabbing her arm. "You said yourself that there are Death Eaters as Healers…. We can only trust you."

"Then we'll take him to Muggle hospital, then—"

"No!" James shouted as he shook her arm. "Muggle hospital won't know what to do! Please, Althea, you have to help him," he pleaded desperately. "Please."

_Sirius, what do you do for the Order_, she thought, as she continued to look at a grimacing and screaming Sirius. If only she had a second Healer, but calling on one would be too dangerous. Running her hands through her hair, she thought quickly at what would stop the spread of the potion, or at least, stop the suffering of death.

"Fine, but you must help," she demanded and James nodded. "Go into the cellar, bring me poppy juice, and every jar on the top shelf marked for burns," she demanded, looking steadfastly into his eyes. "If anything is marked 'dittany' bring it!"

James nodded and hastily ran to her kitchen. Taking out her wand, she placed the tip of her wand against his robes and started to remove Sirius's robes—careful not to spread the potion.

"Al—Althea…wha—what are…you doing?" he asked through gritted teeth, and screamed, arching his back.

"Please, don't move," she replied, holding his shoulders down. "The potion is on your robes and I don't want it to spread," she said and held her wand to his sleeve. "I have to remove your robes."

Sirius, his hair dripping with blood and sweat, grabbed her arm. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Althea refused to answer, removed his hand from her arm, and continued to cut away his clothes. Sirius grabbed her arm again.

"I'm dying, then?" he asked, grimacing—his grip tightening around her arm, hurting her.

Althea pried his hand from her arm. "Sirius, James will be here shortly so I can give you something for pain," she said, removing his clothes and avoiding his question.

"Is this necessary?" James asked as he returned, carrying a large basket full of jars.

"Yes," she replied as she slowly removed the pieces of his robes with her wand. "We have to rinse the potion off him before it spreads. Now, put those things in the spare bedroom while I take him to the bath."

James nodded, and with her wand, Althea guided Sirius as he floated into the bathroom. Carefully, she floated Sirius down into the bathtub. She swallowed as she looked at the wound that bubbled and fizzed upon his hip.

"_Dilutum_," she said, pointing her wand at his hip.

A stream of saline splashed against his wound and Sirius let out a pathetic yelp. Althea furrowed her brow and held her wand steady against the wound. The wound continued to bubble and hiss, which created pink foam that covered the surface. _This won't do_, she thought and turn her wand clockwise to increase the pressure and stream. _It won't be quick enough_.

"Right," she breathed.

She reached for the faucet knobs and turned on the cool water. Sirius yelled and convulsed as the cool water hit his wound.

"Sirius, please I know it hurts, but don't move," she pleaded, holding his legs.

He continued to struggle as James entered the bathroom.

"James, hold his legs," she said as she crawled to the other end of the tub.

"Please…Althea…please," Sirius muttered, struggling against James.

Althea pressed her hands against Sirius's chest to keep him from convulsing. "You have to keep still," she said determined, staring into his eyes. "You want to live, right?" she asked and he nodded. "Then, _keep still_."

Sirius continued to stare into her eyes, and she recognized something she had never seen before—fear. Althea's stomach constricted as she realized he was scared that he would die.

"Sirius, you'll be okay," she said softly, stroking his hair. "You're being very brave," she added and kissed his forehead.

She slowly pulled away, feeling his hand upon her cheek. She tightly shut her eyes and swallowed hard to stave off her tears. _You will die and there is very little I can do_.

"James, mate…you can let go…of my legs," he said, breathing heavily. "Althea—"

"You don't have to talk," she interrupted, washing the blood off his face with a washcloth. "James and I are here to entertain you. James," she said, turning toward James, who nervously sat watching Sirius, "put something relaxing on the phonograph, please."

James slowly stood, still watching Sirius, and exited the room. Althea gently wiped the mixture of dried blood and dirt from his jaw. Sirius leaned forward and growled—Althea went to stop him, but he batted her hand away.

"Althea, I have to tell you—"

"I know," she whispered, wiping his cheek. "Hold still."

"No," he said through gritted teeth. He inhaled deeply and groaned.

Althea leaned forward to keep him still, but Sirius quickly pressed his lips to hers. Althea's eyes widened slightly as his kisses were haphazard and frantic. She pulled away breathing shallowly. Sirius, panting, fell back onto the wall of the bathtub. The two were silent. Althea tended to Sirius's wounds as—his eyes closed—Sirius's breathing became more deliberate. She heard James turn on the phonograph and soon the music of Led Zeppelin filled her cottage. Althea laughed quietly as she heard James mutter an expletive and quickly turn off the phonograph. Sirius smiled as well, but soon grimaced again.

"Sorry," he muttered, entering the bathroom. "Muggle music."

"Right," she replied, placing the washcloth over the side of the tub. "Would you like out of this tub?" she asked and Sirius nodded. "James, would you help me transport Sirius to the spare room?"

James helped Althea guide Sirius into the spare bedroom. Slowly, they lowered him onto the bed, and now she could fully examine Sirius' state. Her stomach lurched forward as she looked at the wound—red, gaping, and deep. Althea opened the poppy juice bottle and poured a few drops into his mouth. Sirius swallowed the droplets and his body began to relax.

"_Humoris_," she murmured slowly, tracing the outline of the large vein upon Sirius's forearm.

Althea looked at the basket full of jars and frowned—only one jar—filled with a sliver salve—would be strong enough; the others, filled with orange, yellow, and purple salves and ointments would be used as supplement to regenerate tissue. _If this bloody works_, she thought, placing the jars on the nightstand in the order she would use them.

Althea opened the jar. "Sirius, this will hurt," she said quietly, stroking his wet hair away from his face.

Sirius nodded fretfully.

Althea generously poured the salve onto his wound. Sirius screamed and shuddered, and she nodded for James to hold him down. She waited for the bubbling and the hissing to cease before she poured more of the salve onto his wound. _Sirius, I'm so sorry_, she thought as he squirmed in pain as the salve seeped into his wound. Althea tended to the wounds on his hands and head, as she waited for the salve to take its full effect. What effect it would have, she did not know. She hoped that it would save him, but no one had ever survived that potion when ingested. In slow succession, she poured the yellow salve—which reacted with the silver salve, producing a noxious smoke that quickly dissipated when Althea used her wand to suction.

"What are you trying to do?" James asked, coughing and waving his hands before his face.

"Hold my wand here," she demanded, taking James's hand and placing it on her wand. "Don't move your hand, no matter what happens."

"_No matter what happens_?" Sirius shrieked, attempting to sit up and yelped in agony.

"Like that, James," she replied, opening the jar of orange salve. "That was a good example."

James nodded and unwaveringly held the tip of her wand at the edge of the wound. Althea poured the orange ointment onto the wound—it seeping into the wound, the salve changing to blue.

"Is that supposed to happen?" James asked, looking fretfully at the wound.

"Of course," she lied, opening the final jar. "Don't move, Sirius, please," she implored, pouring the purple salve onto his wound. "Good," she whispered, taking her wand from James's hand. "Thank you."

Althea began to murmur a succession of Regenerative Charms at his wound. After the last spell, she gently placed gauze soaked in dittany over the wound and secured it to his skin.

James rested his hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Mate, why'd you…" he began to ask, but shook his head, roughly wiping his eyes underneath his glasses.

Sirius forced a smile. "Duty as a godfather," he replied and winced.

"Enough," Althea said quietly, resting her hand on James's upper arm. "I'll meet you in the drawing room…. I believe Sirius needs his rest."

Althea covered Sirius with the softest linen sheet, fed him a few more drops of poppy juice, and left the room. Muttering a Cleaning Charm, she cleaned the sofa and sat down—running her hands through her own wet hair. _This damn waiting_, she thought, pulling her hair at its roots. _This won't work—Sirius will die_, she thought, throwing her head back onto the sofa. _How will I tell James he must bury his best friend_?

"He's dying, isn't he?" James said quietly, as he sat next to Althea.

"I don't know," she murmured, looking at the ceiling. "No one's survived this," she added, turning her head toward him.

James frowned. "He could," he replied solemnly.

Althea sat up and began to mend James's wounds. "I suppose he could," she said, mending a particularly ghastly wound on his forehead. "James, you should go home to Lily—she's probably very worried," she added as she mended the last of his wounds.

James shook his head. "I can't leave. I need to be here."

"There's nothing else we can do," she replied, patting his hand. "Now we wait."

James frowned. "Wait for what? Wait for him to die?" he said, the frustration apparent in his voice. James stood and paced in front of her.

Althea watched him as he paced back and forth—a frown formed on his face as he messed his hair.

"Althea, you don't understand. He's my best friend," he said, kneeling in front of her. "I know you don't particularly like him, but if there is anything you can do…" he added softly, his voice trailing off as he rested his forehead against her knees.

Althea stroked his messy black hair. "Contrary to what you may believe, I don't want Sirius to die, James," she said, lifting his head from her knees. "If there were anything else I could do, I would do it. I wouldn't let him die, he's very important in both our lives," she said, looking into his eyes.

James smiled. "I knew it," he said proudly. "You can't resist his charms, can you," he said triumphantly, poking her kneecap with his finger. "Neither can—"

"He's a _friend_," she interrupted, frowning. "He also saved my life, and I am in his debt."

James stood and messed his hair. "That's right, he did—didn't he?" he murmured, sitting next to her. "At Hogwarts…the Death Eaters, right?"

"And the Whomping Willow," she sighed, looking at the fireplace across from her. "When I discovered my father had died, I attempted to fly my broom into the Whomping Willow," she explained, noticing the fireplace needed cleaning. "I never asked him how he kept me from hitting it."

James rested his hand on her shoulder. "If it weren't for him, I don't know where I'd be," he said thoughtfully.

"He is a good man, but—"

"No," James interrupted. "He's a good man, Althea. I don't know how much more he has to prove to you that he is."

Althea sighed. _He still believes Sirius and I have a chance_, she thought, looking from the fireplace to her hands. _It's too late. Sirius will die_.

"He doesn't have to prove it to me. I know he's a good man," she explained, turning her attention toward him. "He has a lot on his mind."

James nodded knowingly at her observation. "He came from a difficult family," he said, taking his hand from her shoulder. "You did bring out the best in him, though."

Althea smirked. "And the worst," she added, folding her arms.

James shook his head. "No, you didn't," he replied, patting her arm.

Althea removed his hand and stood. "I think you best go to Lily," she said, kicking her heel against the pale wood floor. "I'll contact you if anything happens."

James stood and rested his hands on her upper arms. "Promise me you'll do everything you can," he said ardently.

"I promise," she replied. "Lily needs you. Go home."

"Right," he mumbled and with a loud _pop_ left the room.

Althea quietly opened the guestroom door and it felt as if her heart sank into her stomach. She paused at the door, resting her head against the doorframe. _What am I to do_, she thought sadly, staring at Sirius. What Healer could she trust? What Caretaker would risk his life to tend to Sirius? _I've lost my mum and dad to this_, she thought, attempting to smooth her frizzy hair. _I reckon it's only a matter of time_. She, alone, would tend to him. From the doorway, she observed him taking long, labored breaths—the sheet soaked with his sweat. Althea carefully removed the soaked sheet, and started for the cupboard.

"Althea…don't…don't leave me," Sirius murmured, shifting on the bed.

Althea sighed quietly as she turned to face him. "Sirius, I'm not going to leave. I'm getting another sheet—this one is soaked through," she said softly, presenting the soaked sheet.

"Stay," he said, attempting to focus his eyes on her.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

Althea hurriedly grabbed a sheet from the cupboard and a few clean towels to wipe the sweat off him. She gently covered him with the sheet and wiped the sweat from his forehead as she sat next to him. Sirius opened and closed his mouth, inhaling a deep breath through his nostrils. He arched his back and frantically turned his head from side to side, as he gritted his teeth from the pain. Althea's jaw tightened as she endeavored to maintain her composure as she slowly wiped the sweat from the side of his face. She would have to call James soon. _He should be here when Sirius passes_, she thought, patting his neck with the towel. _James would never forgive me if he wasn't here_. As she patted his neck, she noticed a silver chain around his neck. Gingerly, she pulled it forward, but Sirius grabbed her hand and pulled her hand away from it. Clasping her hand in his hands, he continued to focus his eyes on her.

"I'm sorry," he said and labored for a breath.

"Sorry for what?" she asked softly, with her other hand patting his forehead with a towel. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"You don't want me here," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I can tell."

Althea sighed and squeezed his hand. "I'd want you here under different circumstances." She frowned and stroked the wet strands of hair from his face. "I did have a date tonight," she said, attempting to make light conversation. "I don't know how I will be able to explain you, naked in my home."

Sirius smiled weakly. "Tell him that I'm a jealous old boyfriend, who just won't let you go," he replied and arched his back.

She frowned as he growled in pain, squeezing her hand tightly in his hands. "Sirius, you need more poppy juice—"

"No, I don't want anymore," he answered tiredly. "I want to remember you without poppy juice."

"Remember me? You're not going to die," she said awkwardly. "_Desino dolor_," she said and Sirius relaxed. "_Humoris_."

He shook his head. "No, I am going to die," he said solemnly.

Suddenly, Sirius began to shift and attempted to sit up. Althea went to stop him, but Sirius pushed her arms away.

"Don't—just—please," he said as Althea propped another pillow behind his head. "Althea, I don't want to die," he began and took a deep breath. "I don't want to die like the others. Please, if it looks like I will end up like—like _that_," he continued and furrowed his eyebrows. "Kill me," he finished, looking into her eyes.

Althea licked her lips and bit her bottom lip. "Sirius, I—I can't kill you," she said, stroking his cheek.

Sirius brought his hand to her cheek, and her stomach tightened in excitement as he stroked the side of her face. "You have to; I can't ask James to do it."

"I won't do it," she said—the excitement faded from her stomach as she realized he was sincere in his request. "I couldn't spend the rest of my life knowing that I killed you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself," she added, stroking the side of his face.

"You're not allowed to kill yourself," he said, frowning. "I'm not that bloody important."

"You are important—who will look after me?" she asked, straightening up.

Sirius laughed quietly. "Look after you?" he repeated, smiling faintly. "You don't need me looking after you."

"I don't?" she asked, her lips curving into a smile.

"You don't," he answered, sliding his hand down her neck and onto her shoulder. "Kiss me."

Althea playfully frowned, removing her hand from his face. "The potion is obviously taking effect—you're delirious," she said with mock seriousness. "I'm not Astrid. I'm _Althea_."

"I know," he replied, roughly massaging her shoulder. "You're my Althea."

"You're serious, then?"

"Very," he murmured and closed his eyes, puckering his lips.

Althea laughed through her nose. "What are you, eleven?" she teased, leaning closer.

He smiled vaguely. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured and kissed his lips. Pulling away, she frowned at Sirius's condition. "You're very warm," she said, resting her hand on his forehead and then his cheek. "You're very tired, aren't you?"

Sirius sighed. "I am tired, very tired," he said quietly.

"You need your rest," she replied, standing.

Quickly, he grabbed her arm. "No, don't leave me."

"I won't leave," she replied, removing his hand. "I'll stay…there," she continued, pointing to a chair. Walking across the room, she removed a chair from the dressing table. Althea placed the chair next to the bedside. "I'll sit here."

"The entire night?"

"It is a comfortable chair," she replied, leaning back.

"No, come up here," he said, motioning to the other side of the bed.

"Come up there?" she replied, leaning on the back two legs of her chair.

Sirius nodded and patted the bed next to him. "Yeah, why not?"

Althea smiled. "Are you seducing me?" she asked, letting the chair legs fall forward.

"Seduce you? I'm in no state to seduce you," he replied, smiling tiredly. "Anyway, I'm the one that's naked," he added and shuddered—his face contorting.

Althea stood and opened the bottle of poppy juice. "Sirius, you need more poppy juice," she said, bringing the bottle to his lips.

Sirius closed his mouth and turned his head away.

"If you don't take a few drops the pain will worsen," she said, still offering him the bottle. "It will help you relax and sleep."

Sirius frowned and let a few drops of poppy juice into his mouth.

"I won't give you anymore for a while," she said, twisting the cap onto the bottle.

Althea placed the bottle on the nightstand and walked around to the other side of the bed. Carefully, she sat on the bed and lay down, resting her head against the soft feather pillow.

"So," Sirius said slowly, turning his head toward her. "Aren't you going to seduce me?" he asked, his speech slurring slightly.

"No, Sirius," she replied, turning onto her side—facing him.

"I thought this was your plan—feed me full of poppy juice so I forget who I was and who you were," he slurred, his eyelids drooping lower. "Then you'd take advantage of a poor, defenseless me."

"I don't want you…definitely not in this state," she answered, adjusting his sheet. "Please, sleep. You need to rest."

"Oh, that hurt—that hurt right here," he slurred, and with an exaggerated movement slapped his chest with his hand. "Denying the wish of a dying man," he said, his hand slamming against the mattress.

"You're not dying if you're well enough to proposition me," she replied, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smile. "You know, you will regret this tomorrow."

"Althea…Althea…Althea," Sirius murmured. "I will regret nothing as I will forget."

Althea laughed, causing Sirius's eyes to widen briefly. "_I_ won't forget," she reminded, smiling mischievously.

"Ah, there's the flaw in my plan," he mumbled, his eyes closing.

Soon, Althea heard the slow, labored breaths as Sirius slept. Quietly, she slipped off the bed and stood, careful not to jar the bed. She cringed as she looked at herself in the mirror that rested against the top of the dressing table. _I look terrible_, she thought, frowning at her reflection—her face covered with dirt and blood, her clothes wet, and her hair bushy and tangled. _He wants to remember me like this? I shouldn't think like that—he'll come through_, she thought, taking one last look in the mirror.

Althea walked into her bedroom and took out a pen and paper to write her date. She hated to have to cancel their date that way, but it was necessary. She could not risk him seeing Sirius. Althea looked out her window and into the darkness of the early summer night. Would the Death Eaters come? Would she have to hide Sirius as Marie hid her? Were the charms that she and Lily cast still effective? If they were attacked, would help come in time? She looked at her wand upon the writing desk before her. She would have to cast her Patronus—it would be the quickest way. She cringed with mild pangs of embarrassment. She loved the way he held her as he demonstrated the movements of the wand, his warm breath against her cheek, the way he softly spoke to her the incantation—it was the safest form of communication, after all. Althea quietly growled. She hoped Sirius's friends would stop laughing to help them in time.

The Order worked outside the Ministry, and members were targets just like the Death Eaters. The Ministry arrested one member earlier that morning for questioning, and the Ministry declared an increase in the number of raids. This vigilante group was an affront and an obstacle to the peacekeeping efforts of the Ministry. The Ministry wanted to handle the Voldemort problem with only its most capable Aurors. Little did the Ministry know that some of its most capable Aurors were indeed members of the Order. Furthermore, there were whispers among members of the Order that the raids did not come without Voldemort's supporter influence inside the Ministry. What easier way to disband the opposition? However, public opinion toward the Order was favorable—any help to defeat Voldemort was appreciated—and it was only a matter of time before public outcry of the Order raids. Althea wondered when the Ministry would raid her home—the Ministry raided every home. _They were lucky arresting that one this morning_, she thought, dipping her quill into the inkbottle, _as if raids will lead them to any Death Eaters or Order members. I suppose if they raided every home—they'd find someone someday_.

Slightly uneasy with her excuse of a patient in labor, she neatly tied the letter to Gabriel's leg, and watched Gabriel fly into the early evening sky. Sighing, she collected a nightgown and a robe and headed for the bathroom. However, before she entered the bathroom, another owl arrived with a package containing Sirius's clothes. Opening the package, she placed the neatly folded clothes on the dressing table. As she walked toward the door, she took one more look at Sirius—he was in a poppy juice induced sleep.

* * *

"Why can't I have one day of normalcy," she sighed, resting her head against the shower wall. "I'm tired—tired of the hiding, of the lying, of the fear," she mumbled, softly hitting her forehead against the ceramic tile wall. "I just want to go away," she finished, reaching over and turning off the water.

She could not go away—not now, not with Lily about to have a baby. Lily needed Althea, and to quit her job as a Midwife and start somewhere else would be cruel. _That damn birth announcement_, she thought, wrapping the soft, large towel around her body. Before the events of the early evening, Lily had shown Althea a birth announcement sent to her by Petunia—much to the shock of both young women. Overjoyed that Petunia might want to start a relationship, Lily sent her a letter and small Muggle toy by Muggle post. The letter and package were returned to Lily, unopened. No, Althea had to stay.

As she dressed and dried her hair, she wondered if she would have to call James. _If Sirius makes it through the night, his chances for survival will improve_, she thought, walking into the guestroom. Carefully removing the sheet, she examined his wound, and observed that it had not spread. It was the first positive observation she had made, and a slight upsurge of hope entered her body. _He might just make it_, she thought, stroking the wet hair from his eyes. Althea pointed her wand at the wound and murmured the sequence of Regeneration Charms. She applied new gauze soaked in dittany upon the wound and whispered an Infusion Spell.

"I won't leave you," she whispered, slipping into bed next to him.

She looked to her nightstand—she had all the items she would need to tend to him that night. Exhausted, Sirius's labored breathing and faint snoring wrestled her from her drowsy state. She rested her head against her pillow and watched him as he slept with his mouth slightly parted. For a moment she smiled, and caught herself doing so. She used to enjoy watching him as he slept peacefully beside her.

"Now, I'm watching for your death," she whispered, roughly rubbing her eye.

As she watched him sleep, the part of her mind she kept hidden surfaced, the part insisting that she had made a mistake. _I didn't make a mistake_, she thought fiercely. _We're great as friends—oh, just keep telling yourself that the next time you punch a hole in the ceiling with the fire poker. Poor excuse to have him over, that's what it is—'Oh, Sirius, there's a hole in my ceiling and it's about to rain, could you repair it?' He always comes, though. You stupid girl, he's happy now, with his new girlfriend_. The thought of Sirius's new girlfriend caused waves of jealousy to course through her. Astrid was pretty—very pretty—with long, brown hair and dark brown eyes. Althea had met her a few times on chance meetings in Diagon Alley and at Sirius's birthday party, and thought her to be an agreeable, chatty young woman—although not the sort of woman she and Lily thought he should have as a girlfriend.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, in an attempt to remove the feeling of jealousy from her body and mind. _I still think it should be me_, she thought, sliding closer to him. However, she could never disclose her feelings, for she imagined the different scenarios in which she told him her feelings. In one scenario, Sirius's rage surfaced, humiliating her—their friendship ruined. In another, Sirius condescendingly accepts her feelings, and afterward laughs with his girlfriend.

Gently, Althea stroked the hair away from Sirius's face. "I wish we could go back to the way it was, you know," she whispered as Sirius continued to sleep. "Our fifth-year, before everything started to happen around us. When I hated you, and you—well—didn't really hate me," she continued and smiled. Althea sighed and twirled a piece of his hair with her index finger. "I never told you why I hated you, did I? I hated you because you were so beautiful," she began to explain, letting go of his hair. "I always equated beauty with goodness, and I never understood how someone as physically beautiful as you could be so cruel," she finished, letting her fingers glide down his temple.

Althea closed her eyes as she let her fingertips faintly touch the side of his face. She opened her eyes and saw Sirius's face turning to meet her fingertips, and she smiled.

"Then, I learned how warm, and kind, and loving you could be," she said softly and inhaled a shaky breath. "I was surprised at how innocent you could be," she continued as her throat constricted. "Don't lose your innocence, Sirius. If anyone believes he will live forever, I know it's you…. You and I know who makes this potion, and you cannot let him win," she said—her throat sore from its tightened muscles.

She took Sirius's hand her hers and rested it against her cheek. "I love you," she whispered, closing her eyes. "It's just that we can't be together—you know that. If we were, somehow you would come to resent me, or I, you. I couldn't handle it—I don't ever want to resent you, Sirius," she finished and kissed his parted lips.

* * *

"Ministry!" a man's voice shouted from the drawing room.

Panicked, Althea quickly sat up in bed as the late morning sun cascaded through the guestroom windows. She gasped—she had fallen asleep after the fourth treatment. _Oh no, they're going to discover Sirius_, she thought, frantically running her fingers through her hair. Althea jumped out of bed as she heard the footsteps move from the drawing room into the kitchen. Running to the nightstand, she hid the poppy juice bottle and a half-empty jar of burn salve underneath Sirius's pillow.

Althea's movement of his pillow woke Sirius. "What's happening?" he asked groggily.

Althea stopped, tears filling her eyes. "Sirius," she choked, feeling herself shake with happiness.

Sirius tiredly smiled, bringing a shaky hand to his face.

"_Humoris_," she murmured slowly and Sirius perked up.

"What—"

"A raid—Enforcement Officers," Althea whispered nervously, removing the sheet over his hip. "How are you this morning?" she asked, removing the gauze from his hip.

Althea gasped as the wound was almost healed. _How could this have almost healed in one night_, she wondered, as she observed only a small circular superficial wound on his hip. She remembered the other times the potion had been used, and noticed a fatal error—this time the potion had not been ingested. _The ingestion of the potion must quicken the time it works though the system and heightens its effects_, she thought, picking up her wand from the nightstand.

"Pain's gone," he said sleepily, looking down at his hip. "Hey, my hip," he said, smiling tiredly. "I knew you could do it."

"It wasn't me. _Suere_," she replied as she mended the small wound with her wand. "It could be many things—arrival here just after it happened, the washing out of the wound, the combination of salves, the fact it wasn't ingested, or a weak Potions Master," she explained and frowned. "Strange, how the Ministry would raid _my_ home after the fight yesterday," she said knowingly, wary of the footsteps entering her bedroom, as she covered his hip with the sheet.

Sirius nodded in agreement. "I know; they've been monitoring my movements for some time now," he said, sitting up. "They probably became nervous after I didn't return home last night."

Althea frowned as she heard the two Ministry officials rummaging through her things. "I don't like this," she said, rubbing her upper arms. "What will they do when they find us?"

"Take us away and question us," he said, running his hands through his hair. "It's the only way they get their information. Death Eaters have all but taken over the Ministry. This isn't good."

"No, it isn't," she replied, biting her lip.

Althea looked at the pile of Sirius's folded clothes on the dressing table. _However, it will give us an alibi_, she thought, looking back at Sirius. Picking up the pile of clothes, she began to scatter them around the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just play along, all right," she said, taking off her nightgown. Throwing the nightgown on the floor, she hurriedly jumped into bed. "Right," breathed, looking at a confused Sirius, who had turned onto his side. "No kissing below the face and no hands below the neck."

"Is this the best you can do?" he remarked, his lips curving into a smile.

"At the moment, yes," she replied, herself attempting to hide her laughter. "Now kiss me."

Sirius sighed. "Wouldn't this be a bit more convincing with your knickers off?" he asked, smiling.

"I don't trust you," she replied, and awkwardly pressed her lips to his.

Sirius pulled away and made a face. "What are you, _eleven_?" he teased and frowned playfully. "You _could_ make this more convincing," he added, rolling her onto her back. Sirius sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "Do you have to be so rigid, too?"

Althea sighed and pinched his waist.

"Ow! Injuring an already injured man and breaking your own rule, too," he added and began tickling her sides.

Althea wiggled and laughed as she tried to stop his tickling. "Sirius—Sirius—stop," she laughed, holding his hands away from her.

Sirius playfully frowned.

"I suppose we should make this as convincing as possible."

Sirius grinned. "That's my girl," he whispered and winked.

"I'm not your girl," she replied awkwardly, "and don't you dare tell James."

"Don't you dare tell Lily," he whispered and slowly let his parted lips intermingle with hers.

No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she enjoyed Sirius's lips against hers and against her skin. She even hoped that the Ministry officials would not enter the spare bedroom, and they would continue uninterrupted; however, Althea heard the footsteps growing louder as they stopped outside the bedroom door.

The door clicked open and the man shouted, "The Ministry!"

Immediately Sirius rolled off Althea, and with perfect execution, the pair looked embarrassed and shocked at the Ministry Officials. Althea modestly covered herself as the male official attempted to retain his composure.

"Very sorry," the man said, staring at the ceiling.

Althea found it difficult not to snicker.

"As you should be," Sirius replied gruffly, folding his arms. "Interrupting a honeymoon couple."

Althea's mood quickly changed. Her eyes narrowed, and Sirius winked. _Honeymoon couple? Oh, this will end terribly_, she thought, frowning.

"Sorry about that. Congratulations," the man replied, shaking Sirius hand.

"No worries," Sirius replied, smiling. Althea pinched his side, and Sirius grabbed her wrist—holding her hand in his.

"I found them, Astrid!" the man yelled, shifting his gaze to over his shoulder. "Just a honeymoon couple."

"A honeymoon couple—Althea _married_? Congratulations, Sirius didn't—" said a brown-haired woman, who had appeared in the doorway. Suddenly her face reddened and her eyes filled with anger. "Sirius! How—how could you!" she shouted angrily, her finger pointed at the couple.

Althea's stomach jolted forward as she remembered Sirius's girlfriend—she quickly retracted her hand from Sirius's hand. _Of all the people to conduct the raid of my home, it had to be Astrid_, she thought, resting her head on her knees. _Terrible is a great understatement for this situation_. She did not dare lift her head to see Sirius's reaction. She could feel his reaction.

"Bloody hell," she murmured as she slowly lifted her head to face Astrid.

"Bloody hell indeed!" she exclaimed, folding her arms. "I don't believe this! You couldn't have possibly married here—it's the law to publish intent in the _Daily Prophet_ three weeks prior!"

"Muggle elopement," Sirius mumbled, looking to Althea for help.

"How convenient," Astrid replied, her eyes narrowing. "I suppose there is a document of some sort."

Althea wanted to blurt out Sirius' stupidity, to tell Astrid that it was a joke, to let her know how close her boyfriend had come to certain death, but the thought of dementors and Azkaban frightened her. It was best to be married to Sirius…to protect her…to protect him. What harm could there be in such a little lie?

"It will arrive by Muggle post," Althea answered, holding the sheet tighter.

Astrid wasn't Muggle-born, was she?

"Muggle post," she sneered, eyeing Althea with the utmost disgust.

Althea let out a small sigh of relief—she obviously wasn't.

"When were you going to tell me? A week from now, maybe a month from now?"

"I was going to tell you," Sirius pleaded. "You have to understand!"

"Tell me—understand? So _this_ is where you've been?" she asked, thrusting her hand in Althea's direction. "All those times you weren't at your flat, or were otherwise unreachable, you were here? With—with _her_!"

Althea straightened. _Hang on_, she thought, _I'm not a poor choice_.

"Yes," he muttered, lowering his head.

Althea prayed she would not reach for her wand.

"I should have known," she said gravely, resting her hands on her hips. "You always preferred _her_ company, didn't you? Now you're married to her—I hope you're happy."

"I am."

Althea swallowed.

"You are a swine!" she shouted, picking up a piece of his clothing and throwing it at his head. "And you," she began, walking over to Althea's side of the bed. "You are lucky we didn't find anything, or I'd have no problem carting you off to Azkaban!" she finished and slapped Althea's face.

Althea's eyes widened and Sirius grasped her arm. _Let me hex her, please_, she thought as her fingers clawed at the sheet.

"Let's leave, Stuart," she said, walking over to her partner. "He's no member of the Order—he can't keep his trousers on long enough. Neither is she—she's too busy stealing other women's boyfriends," she remarked angrily.

Astrid quickly left the bedroom with her partner behind her. Althea jumped slightly at the sound of her front door slamming shut.

Gingerly rubbing her cheek, Althea continued to stare at the spot where Sirius's girlfriend had been. "I'm very sorry," she lied, finally turning to face him. "If I would have known—"

"Well, there was no way of knowing."

"I guess not," she murmured and bit her bottom lip. "I feel awful," she said, tightening her grip on her pillow. "Sirius, _why_ in the bloody hell did you say we were a _honeymoon couple_?" she asked, throwing her pillow at his head.

Sirius caught the pillow and threw it back at her. "To make it more convincing."

Grabbing her nightgown from the side of the bed, she slipped it over her head. "I have to tell her the truth," she said, adjusting her nightgown. "We can't let her think we're married."

Sirius laughed and scratched the back of his head. "Do you think she'll listen to you?"

His amusement caused her to frown.

"You can't tell her why I was here—she'd have no problem putting both of us away."

"I liked Astrid, although she does think great Muggle music are The Carpenters," she lied, bringing her knees to her chest. "It's not fair to her, though."

Sirius's bark-like laugh echoed throughout the room. "Fair? You'll tell her the truth and she'll still cart us away."

Althea frowned. "You seem happy about this," she remarked, resting her chin on her folded arms. "She thinks I'm a slag."

Sirius grunted as he slid underneath the bedclothes, resting his head on his pillow. "I'm not _that_ happy," he replied and sighed. "We lost one of our links with the Ministry."

Althea lifted her head and turned it toward Sirius. "The Ministry? You were dating her for information, weren't you?" she said and her stomach flipped. "She wasn't really your girlfriend, was she?"

"Yep," he said, turning his face toward her. "Amazing what she told me, too."

"You are a swine," she sneered.

"I'm out there, risking my life—"

"Yeah, dating is one of life's greatest risks," she interrupted, smirking.

"With her it was," he snorted. "She questioned everything. Including you—she didn't trust you."

"Trust me?" she repeated, lying back onto the bed. "Why wouldn't she trust me?"

"Your father," he replied, resting his arm across her waist. Althea's stomach muscles tightened as he gently stroked her side. "She was actually stupid enough to show me the file on your father."

Althea turned onto her side. "My father had a file?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

Sirius nodded.

"Why would he have a file? He never did anything."

"The Ministry didn't like what he was writing. They were waiting for him to break the International Statute of Secrecy," he explained, resting his hand on her hip. "Carried over to you, too—had a file almost as big."

"Me? I've never done anything in my life," she said, taking his hand off her hip.

Sirius laughed. "Don't worry. I nicked the files—I'll have to let you read them," he said, grinning. "I found passages where my mother forced inquiries after she discovered I was dating you. She wanted to take your wand away," he added and pinched her nose—Althea frowned. "Of course she'll find out about our marriage and request a full inquest into the matter."

"We're _not_ married," she reminded sternly. "If anything, you made our plan backfire if there is an inquiry."

"Well, I suppose we should marry, then?" he asked, smirking.

"Unfortunately, I suppose we should," she murmured, frowning. "How's your bike?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My bike is fantastic, why?"

"There are loads of islands in the Caribbean that don't require anything," she replied and furrowed her eyebrows. "We could marry today, change the license, and no one would ever know different," she explained and sat up. "However, if I marry you, we're getting an annulment after a week."

Sirius sat up as well. "Agreed," he said, unhooking the silver chain around his neck.

He caught the silver chain before it could fall and slipped off the amethyst ring he had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Althea giggled.

"Don't laugh, we need to make this official," he explained, taking her left hand in his.

"Official? Sirius, no we don't."

Sirius nodded and slipped the amethyst ring onto her finger.

"What do you carry this round for?" she asked teasingly, slipping the ring onto her right ring finger. "For emergency situations?"

"Sort of like that," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Never know when you might have to marry," she remarked and winked.

"Right," he breathed, scratching the back of his head. "I'll tell James—"

"No!" she said firmly, grabbing his forearm. "He can't know, not until after—"

"After what?" James asked and Althea's stomach constricted as she turned her face toward the door. James stood at the door, his arms folded, with a large grin across his face. "All better then, mate?"

"Yeah," Sirius replied, grinning. "Althea's cleverness saved us from Azkaban," he added, nodding toward Althea.

_Oh, damn, don't say anything_, she thought, fiercely rubbing her forehead.

"You were raided?"

Althea nodded.

"A few of the others were as well. No one taken."

"We lost a link with the Ministry, however," Sirius replied and laughed. "_Astrid_ raided us. Nasty shock to find us in bed."

"It's a nasty shock for me, as well," he remarked, pointing to Sirius and Althea.

Althea pulled the blanket higher toward her chin.

"Glad the Ministry bought it," Sirius replied, scratching the back of his head. "Said we were a honeymoon couple."

James laughed loudly as Althea punched Sirius in the shoulder. "Oh, mate!" he laughed and sighed loudly, grabbing his side. "Althea, you said—" he started to ask, but fell into another fit of laughter.

"It wasn't _me_," she replied, raising her voice. "It was Sirius."

James sighed loudly again and shook his head as he looked at the couple. "Of all the things you both have done, this—_this_ is…good one, Padfoot," he said and winked. He strode over to the bed and messed the back of his hair. "I thought I—"

"No, Prongs," Sirius said as the two men hugged, "I have to see my godson."

James rubbed the side of his face. "Put some pants on, will you?" he teased and Sirius chuckled, pulling the sheet tighter around him. "I can't stay. I have to tell Lily—it'll make her morning."

"Right," Sirius replied and winked.

Althea covered her face with her hands as James Apparated.

"Cheer up," Sirius said, resting his palm against her back, "you're marrying the most eligible bachelor in all of Wizarding Britain."

"I told you _not_ to tell James," she replied, removing her hands from her face.

"So?"

"This is all a joke to you, isn't it?"

Sirius laughed as he massaged the back of his head.

"Yes, it is," she continued with mild astonishment and cast another Infusion Spell. "You are a swine."

* * *

_What am I doing here_, she thought, as the justice of the peace spoke to Sirius. _I know James and Lily are in England still laughing over this. She couldn't stop laughing when I saw her…. I feel like such an idiot_.

She continued hide her growing queasiness behind a fake smile as Sirius replied, "I will."

The words _I will_ caused the bile to surge up her throat. She widened her smile as she swallowed the revolting liquid as the justice of the peace directed his attention toward her. Her mind did not recognize the words the justice of the peace spoke to her. _Look at him, his smirking—it's a joke to him. This is a farce. Why am I honestly going through this? I didn't want it to happen this way. This is ridiculous—love, honor, forsaking all others—I can't possibly believe this. I can't possibly believe this when I know it isn't true for the both of us. Oh, but he had to be such an idiot! Opening his bloody mouth and saying 'honeymoon couple.' If he thinks we're going to consummate this bloody thing…. But it has been a while and he almost died…. What am I thinking? No! No! No! I'm going to march him into the spare room and lock the door behind him, but what good will that do? He could Apparate, or worse, I could Apparate—and I know I would, too…. This is wrong, but I have to answer. Please forgive me_, she thought as the justice of the peace finished.

"I will," she replied, hoping she did not sound too eager or too reluctant.

The two exchanged rings, and relief overcame her, as she did not throw up as she said, 'husband.' The two exchanged their first kiss as a wedded couple, and the justice of the peace wished them luck and happiness as they signed the marriage certificate. Althea forced her hand to sign her newly married name onto the marriage certificate. She was now known, for that one week, as 'Mrs. Black.' _I can't believe I have done something so incredibly stupid_, she thought as she feigned another smile.

"James and Lily have promised us a party when we return tonight," he said, pulling her close and smiling as the wife of the justice of the peace took their photograph.

"No, I don't want a party," she replied, smiling weakly for another photograph.

"We have a party, I drink too much, and we don't have to consummate this thing," he replied and kissed her cheek as the woman took another photograph.

"We weren't consummating this thing, anyway," she replied through her smiling teeth.

"We really are married, then," he remarked and laughed as the camera bulb flashed. "I'm sending one of these photographs to my mother."

"Damn," she murmured, frowning as the last photograph was taken.

* * *

_Only one glass of wine_, she thought, looking at Sirius as he sat on the edge of her bed. _Sirius, you only drank one glass of wine the entire night at the party_.

"So," Sirius said slowly, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"So," she replied slowly, leaning against her dressing table. "I'll sleep on that side of the bed," she said, pointing to Sirius's right, as she walked toward the bed.

"Right," he muttered, moving backward and slipping underneath the blankets.

Althea folded the blankets over her chest and sighed. "Well, goodnight," she said, turning onto her side away from Sirius.

"Goodnight," he replied and turned off the lamp.

Althea lay awake in her bed, watching the odd shadows cast by her writing desk. She looked to the ring upon her finger, how the ruby richly sparkled in the moonlight. She felt mild pangs of guilt for wearing such a ring for their fabricated marriage. _It cost a small fortune_, she thought, looking upon the large solitary stone. _A fortune he doesn't have_.

She wondered if Sirius was asleep, but thought it better not to say his name to make sure. She listened to the ticking clock on her nightstand instead, hoping it would take her mind off Sirius; however, as the minutes passed, she could not take her mind off him. _I'm being such an idiot_, she thought and pulled the covers tightly around her neck. She swore she could smell his soap upon her skin. Why did he have to dance so close to her in that little café? She frowned. It wasn't the café that would leave his scent upon her skin. They would have to divorce—he had convinced her of that—the major error in their plan as the Ministry believed them to be consummated husband and wife from the raid that morning. What harm would one moment of lovemaking do, then? He had been so close to death, too. She knew his motorbike was fully functional when he insisted they stop at her Bermuda home for him to inspect it. When he insisted that they wait until the storm cleared to return to England, she did not argue. Sirius had never seen such a storm—the dark sky, the cool wind, the eerie feeling one gets at such an abrupt change. The two huddled on the sofa in the solarium to watch the storm as the heavy rain, thumping against the windows, obscured the lightning that streaked across the sky. She settled in to his embrace, to the safety it invoked—she sighed—it never took much for her to succumb to his touch. He seemed to savor every caress, every kiss of her.

_Just go to sleep…but what is he doing? Maybe he's lying there awake, too...lying there awake, too_... Realizing he might not be asleep, she slowly rolled over onto her back. She gradually turned her head. Sirius, his hands behind his head, stared up at the ceiling—almost looking through it.

"Thank you, Althea."

Althea's lips upturned into a small smile.

"You saved my life."

"I'm a Healer."

"No," he murmured, furrowing his brow. "You're brilliant, and—"

Althea shifted closer to Sirius and rested the side of her face against his warm chest. Her smile broadened as she felt his arms surround her.

"Goodnight, lovely," he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

_I love you, too_, she thought, closing her eyes.


	40. Althea's Cottage, Early July 1980

**Althea's Cottage, Early July 1980**

_Good morning, Althea_, she thought as she opened her eyes. Stretching as she sat up, she smiled—it was her day off. Sighing happily, she let her arm fall heavily next to her. _I reckon I'll lie in a bit more_, she thought and threw herself back onto her bed—the down pillows fluffing up around her. _I reckon I bloody well deserve it_. Althea raised her arms above her head once more and yawned loudly—her eyes glimpsing the ruby sparkling richly in the morning sunlight. _We were supposed to have this wedding taken care of a week ago_, she thought, spinning the ring around her finger. _I reckon it doesn't matter much at this moment_. The attacks upon Muggles and Muggle-borns had increased in the last two weeks with Althea devoting more of her time at St. Mungo's and Sirius out on missions for the Order. Sirius—bruised and bloodied—returned to her cottage around four that morning to find Althea asleep at her kitchen table. Althea did not ask his whereabouts—more business for the Order. She mended the gash on his forearm without question.

Standing from her bed, she slipped her arms into her dressing gown and walked toward her bedroom door. Yawning, she scratched the back of her head as she walked past the guest room. Sirius was still asleep—his foot, uncovered, dangling off the side of the bed. She sighed quietly, resting her cheek against the doorframe. '_You shouldn't live alone, Althea. It's not safe_,' she remembered, the corner of her mouth upturned. _You then spent twenty minutes explaining to me how you weren't trying to bed me after I teased you_. Althea's smirk faded and a small crease formed between Althea's eyebrows. _I truly hope he didn't send that photograph to his mother_. As he shifted onto his back, Althea quickly walked toward the drawing room.

Althea yawned once more as entered the kitchen. The early morning sun filtered through the stained glass cottage windows, creating hues of red, blue, purple, and green across the stone floor. Turning on the stove, she yawned as she took eggs from the pantry.

"Morning," Sirius yawned, shuffling into the kitchen.

"Morning," she replied, cracking an egg into the frying pan. "I thought you'd still be asleep," she added, cracking another egg into the frying pan.

Sirius shrugged. "I have business in Knockturn Alley this morning," he explained and took a sip from bottle of milk.

Althea frowned as she placed the two eggs onto a plate. "I drink that milk, too, you know," she remarked, placing the plate on the table. "Obviously, when you left your family, you left your manners behind as well," she added, cracking two more eggs into the frying pan.

"Ha, ha," he replied, sitting down at the table. He looked at his plate and frowned. "Is this all I get?" he asked, poking an egg with his fork. "I'm out saving the world from the evilest of wizards, and all I get are two eggs—two _small_ eggs," he remarked and took a bite of egg. "These are terrible."

"Thank you," she replied, resting her hands on her hips. "I wasn't expecting you up this morning," she said, sliding two eggs onto her plate. She sat across from him and took a bite of egg. She frowned immediately as she swallowed the overcooked egg. "You're right, these are terrible," she said, putting down her fork. "I am a dreadful cook."

"Just breakfast," he replied, taking her plate. "Anyway, I'll make us breakfast.

Althea laughed as she watched Sirius fry up sausages. "Where did you learn to cook?" she asked, as she watched him crack four eggs into frying pan.

"Mrs. Potter taught me," he answered, removing sausages from the pan.

Althea smiled eagerly. "Did she teach you to make the cakes, too?" she asked as Sirius placed a plate of sausages and eggs in front of her. "I loved those cakes she made for us after Quidditch matches."

"I loved them, too," he said, sitting across from her. "Unfortunately, she didn't teach me how to make them," he said and sighed, leaning back in the chair. "I miss those cakes."

"I do, too," she said, charming the milk and a glass onto the table. "Do you remember the party after the Ravenclaw match our sixth-year?" she asked, pouring milk into her glass.

"I remember," he answered, smiling. "What McGonagall let us get away with that night," he reminisced, leaning forward.

"Well, we did win the Quidditch Cup," she replied, and took a bite of egg. "Oh, Sirius, this is so good," she said, taking another bite of egg and sausage. "Maybe we shouldn't get the annulment, and you could cook for me every morning," she teased, taking another bite of sausage.

"Oh, the _Daily Prophet_ is here," said Sirius, unrolling the paper. "I wonder if it'll have last night's fight."

Althea frowned, but continued to eat her eggs and sausages as Sirius read the paper. "Does it have anything in there?" she asked, finishing her milk.

Sirius—ashen-faced—mumbled as he stood.

"Sirius, is everything all right?" she asked, watching him tighten his grip on the paper. "You haven't touched your food."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sirius—"

"I'm not hungry."

His hand tightly gripping the paper, he walked out of the kitchen. Althea stood and followed him into the drawing room. Sirius sat on the sofa, his face in his hands, the crumpled paper resting on the coffee table. As she sat next to him, he let out a mournful sigh.

"What happened?" she asked, resting her hand on his back.

"He's dead," he whispered, not lifting his head from his hands.

Furrowing her brow, Althea lifted the paper from the table and smoothed its crumpled pages. On the third page, she saw the small picture of Regulus Black with an arrogant smile staring back at her. Sirius's brother was dead.

"Idiot," he muttered, looking up from his hands. Althea wrapped her arm around his back. "Got himself killed, what a—" Sirius began, but growled as he pulled at his hair—rocking forward and back.

Sirius dropped his hands to his sides, and curled up onto the sofa—resting the side of his face in her lap. Althea placed her one hand around his waist, and with her other hand, stroked his thick black hair. She felt his body tense and he began to sniff back tears. The sound of Sirius holding back tears, unnerved her, and caused her to take a painful, ragged breath. She had never known him to cry.

"I have to go to the funeral."

"Do you think you should?" she asked, smoothing a lock of hair behind his ear. "I mean your mother will be there…and the rest of your family. It might be too dangerous."

"I don't care," he said, sitting up. He sniffed and bit the inside of his cheek. "I have to go," he whispered, turning his head away from her. "I just have to go."

"Maybe—"

"No, you don't understand. I have to go."

With her hand, she gently turned his face toward hers. "You felt you let him down, didn't you?"

Sirius's grey eyes glistened with tears.

"Sirius, it's not your fault," she said, stroking his cheek. "He made his own choices. He could have chosen what you had done, but he didn't."

"He couldn't make his own choices. I took that away from him," he said and swallowed a breath.

"No—"

Sirius shook his head and removed her hand from his cheek. "He had no choice, Althea," he said, massaging her hand. "I'd left him."

Althea looked down at their hands. She didn't understand Sirius's guilt. Regulus had always towed the family line and was a willing participant. She remembered the newspaper clipping of her father's murder, his bullying of Muggle-borns, and the company he kept at Hogwarts. _No, he truly believed those ideas_, she thought, her finger tracing the long thin scar upon his hand. _He embraced it_.

The expression on Sirius's face darkened. "I always took the blame for things we did as kids," he said. "He was so weak…such a follower. I could coax him into anything. I should've—I should've—"

"My love, don't do this—"

Sirius ruefully shook his head. "If only I had spent more time with him—instead of letting him hang out with those bastards." He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have run away. I should have stayed in the house and looked after him. He needed me, and I let him down."

"Sirius, there was no way you could have stayed in that house. It would have killed you. The things you witnessed there—you had to leave."

"Yeah, but I left him there to be consumed by it," he replied, pulling away from her.

"He could have left, too."

Sirius rubbed his forehead. "But don't you see? He wasn't as strong as I was."

Althea took his hands away from his forehead and held them tightly in hers. "You couldn't have forced him to leave. Did you ever talk to him? Try to convince him to stay with you after you left?"

Sirius nodded.

"And he didn't come, did he?"

Sirius remained silent.

"Sirius, he made his choice. Obviously, he had every opportunity to leave, but he didn't. Maybe he did truly believe your family," she explained, stroking his cheek with her fingertips.

Sirius remained silent and removed her hand from his face. He continued to hold her hand in his lap, tracing the lines on her palm with his fingers. "Althea, I need you there with me," he said, looking at her hand. "I can't do this alone."

Althea gulped. "Your family despises me," she said, "and my presence is unwelcome, especially now with Regulus gone."

"I need you, please," he whispered and kissed her forehead.

Althea frowned. "Your mother—"

"Please."

"Why not ask James? He would go—no questions and no protesting," she replied, pulling way from him. "James would do anything for you."

Sirius shook his head. "I can't ask him. He needs to be with Lily—she's having the baby soon. You know they've been fighting recently."

"I know. It's a stressful time."

"So, they need to spend as much time as they can together. She lost it after I came back half-dead," he said, squeezing her hand. He brought her hand to the side of his face and closed his eyes. "After James, you're the most important person to me."

"What about Remus and Peter?"

Sirius frowned. "Peter can't go—his mum's birthday," he explained and sighed, "and Remus isn't in England."

"So, I'm really the _fourth_ person on your importance list," she remarked, attempting to produce a smile in Sirius.

"Althea, does it matter? I need you there with me," he said, squeezing her hand.

Althea sighed sadly and frowned. "I want to be there with you, but can't you see what's going to happen?"

Sirius threw down her hand. "I _know_ what's going to happen," he said angrily, running his fingers through his hair. "Do you think I enjoy seeing those people? I owe it to him—I need to apologize."

Althea was about to interject that Regulus probably did not care about Sirius's apology, but she refrained from doing so. No matter how she felt, this was something Sirius had to do.

"I'll dress and then we can go."

Sirius took her hand in his. "Thank you," he replied softly, and kissed the back of her hand.

* * *

Sirius held her hand as they silently slipped into the last pew of the church. Under her black lace veil, she determined that it was a modest turnout—most of mourners were Regulus's family and friends. However, Althea recognized few, and those few she recognized, she wished would not recognize her. She listened nervously as the priest mentioned the shame in a life ended so soon, and consoled the mourners with Regulus's finer attributes. _Was Regulus kind to animals_, she wondered, as Mrs. Black wailed in the front row. Narcissa comforted Mrs. Black with a tepid shoulder pat, and Althea frowned. _Her son is dead, and you comfort her with a pat on the shoulder_, she thought disapprovingly, as Mrs. Black collapsed, weeping.

Quietly, she slid closer to Sirius, and held his hand in hers, interlocking their arms. Sirius approved of the gesture and gently pressed her hand in gratitude. _How can they act so cold_, she questioned as she observed the other mourners. _How could Regulus's death cause such indifference? I thought he was the beloved son—the prized heir of the Black family—the sweet and noble prince that would carry on the Black legacy of pureblood mania_, she thought, turning her gaze from the mourners to Sirius. Upset, he continued to the bite the inside of his cheek, as the priest continued telling the story of Regulus chosen as Slytherin prefect. _It's not your fault he's gone_, she thought, resting her head against his shoulder. _He openly chose to follow the family doctrine, and follow Voldemort. Except, why is he dead_, she wondered, frowning. _There was no mention of an Auror, or a Hit Wizard, or a member of the Order killing him. A Death Eater or Voldemort couldn't have possibly killed him—he was on their side_, she thought as Sirius rested his head atop hers. _How odd_.

Althea heard the creaking of the pew, and lifted her head to observe who had sat next to Sirius. _I thought we told James he didn't need to come_, she thought as James rested his arm around Sirius's back. At her cottage, the two had asked James to stay behind and to spend his day with Lily. However, the arrival of James was not an enormous surprise—Sirius meant more to James than Lily, or their soon-to-be born baby ever could. The two were inseparable and their relationship was profound, and to Althea, had a mystical quality to it. The screeching of Mrs. Black broke Althea from her thoughts. She did feel a slight pity for the woman, who had lost her son, but she had another son—a son, sitting arms linked with Althea. _You stupid woman, you still have another son_, she thought as Narcissa patted Mrs. Black's shoulder once more.

"Stop screeching, you old hag."

"Regulus died," whispered James. "She's distraught."

Sirius crossed his legs and folded his arms, taking Althea's hand with him. "As if she cares," he snorted. "Distraught—it's an act. If she's distraught about anything it's that I get everything when she dies," he explained, as Althea's arm ached from such an awkward position.

She pulled out her arm from underneath his and rested it in her lap. "You get everything? You were disowned, though."

"It doesn't matter—Wizarding Law has different inheritance laws. I'm the last male heir of the Black family, and as you can tell by her wailing," Sirius paused and rolled his eyes as his mother howled, "she is not happy, and neither am I," he remarked, unfolding his arms and uncrossing his legs. "Unfortunately, I hope she lives forever."

"She'll probably outlive all of us," James whispered, sinking into the pew.

"Oh, don't say that—"

"It's true, she will outlive all of us," Sirius interrupted, taking her hand in his. "She has no heart—she feeds on the pain and suffering of others, and there's plenty of that."

The priest descended next to the coffin, the pallbearers left the pews to carry the coffin, and the three took it as a signal to leave before detection by the mourners. Exiting the church, Althea frowned—the sun had disappeared, replaced with dark, slate-colored rain clouds. She lowered her head as the raindrops seeped through her veil as she stumbled to avoid a puddle.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, holding her up by her arms.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she murmured and surveyed the motorbike. "Is it safe to ride in this rainstorm?" she asked, watching the raindrops hit and splash on the motorbike.

Sirius shrugged. "I think so," he said and sat on the motorbike.

Althea folded her arms and studied the bike and the wet road. Sirius shook his head.

"Come on, Althea, you ride a broom for God's sake, what's a little slick road?" he teased, a smirk enlarging across his face.

Althea sighed as she climbed on the back of the motorbike. Her head jolted backward as Sirius accelerated quickly—the tires squealing against the wet road. The rain fell with increased intensity as the raindrops violently splattered against her veil. She shivered as the wind cooled her drenched veil as it clung to her face. _What an appropriately dismal day_, she thought as Sirius cut off an automobile—the driver immediately slamming on the breaks and honking his horn.

"Do you have to go so fast?" she asked loudly, as Sirius swerved through traffic.

"Faster? Right!" he shouted and accelerated.

Althea screamed and held him tightly as he continued to speed and to swerve through traffic. On a lonely stretch of country road, Sirius lifted the motorbike into the air, and Althea buried her face into his shoulder blade, to avoid the increasing ferociousness of the wind and rain.

"We're there!" he shouted over the loud wind and the roaring engine. "Hold on!"

The motorbike sharply descended into the grove of cedar trees, and landed heavily onto the muddy ground—kicking up mud onto the motorbike and its passengers. Althea stepped off the motorbike and her heels immediately sank into the soft earth—her attempts to free herself from the muddy earth caused her to her fall backward onto flooded ground. Sirius stepped off the motorbike, shook his head, and smiled as he helped her off the ground.

"Thanks," she said as Sirius cast a Cleaning Charm on her soaked, mud-covered clothing.

"No problem," he replied, taking her by the hand as they walked toward the gravesite. "What's wrong now?" he asked, looking at Althea's awkward gait.

"It's my shoes—the heels stick in the mud," she answered, picking up her leg higher than usual.

"I told you it'd be muddy today," he reminded as they hid behind a particularly large cedar tree. "Sun in the morning and rain in the afternoon."

"Like I believe anything from the _Daily Prophet_," she replied, watching as the priest continued the service over Regulus's grave.

Althea heard footsteps behind her and turned to find James, who stood on Sirius's other side.

"Are you holding up?" he asked, watching the service as well.

"Yeah," Sirius whispered, as the priest closed his service book. "As best as I can be."

James sighed and rested his hand on Sirius's back. "Mate, there was nothing you could've done," he said as the mourners placed flowers onto Regulus's coffin. "You're not to blame for his death."

"Mate, what if—"

James tightly clasped Sirius' shoulder. "_No_," he said solemnly. "Padfoot, they didn't find—"

Althea inhaled a sharp breath as Mrs. Black leaned against Narcissa. _Just like my father_, she thought at the gruesome coincidence. _An empty grave_.

The mourners slowly trailed away from the grave and walked the lonely stretch of desolate road from the graveyard to their waiting Portkeys. Only Sirius's mother and a few family members remained—some distance from the grave. Sirius stepped forward and James and Althea grabbed his arms.

"Let go of me!" he whispered, shrugging his arms away.

Althea frowned, but did not stop him as he walked toward the grave. Sirius took a rose from one of the displays and walked to the foot of the coffin. Sighing, he threw the rose onto the coffin and stood with his arms at his sides—continuing to look at the grave, almost looking through the coffin. Althea walked forward, despite James's quiet protests and joined Sirius at the grave. Sirius did not acknowledge her presence—his hands, white, were clenched at his sides. Althea slipped her arms around his back and rested her face against his shoulder.

"Such an idiot," Sirius muttered, slowly placing his hands atop hers.

"Bloody serpents?" James whispered as he stood next to Sirius. "You think they'd invented Slytherin."

Sirius let out a sad laugh. "It's a sore subject in the family," he remarked and patted Althea's hands. "You can let go now, Althea. I'm not about to jump into his grave."

Althea let go of Sirius and joined him at his side.

"Thank you," Sirius said, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers.

"How dare you defile my son's funeral?" Mrs. Black said—her voice unnaturally cool.

Althea gasped and felt Sirius briefly tighten his grip upon her hand.

"I came to pay my respects to my brother."

"Regulus had no brother."

Sirius laughed mirthlessly, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looked up toward the slate colored sky and sighed.

"Sirius, let's go," Althea whispered.

Sirius shook his head and turned to face his mother. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you," he said and bit the inside of his cheek. "You made sure of that."

"You!" Mrs. Black breathed.

Suddenly, Althea felt the veil ripped from her scalp. Her scalp stung from the hair that was torn from her scalp and now rested in the bobby pins attached to the veil. Althea saw that Sirius's family carefully watched the display a few yards away.

Mrs. Black's eyes widened and her tear stained face paled. "You dare to bring this vile creature to Regulus's funeral?" she said, thrusting her hand toward Althea's face. "This repulsive Muckblood—"

"_Don't_—"

"You defend her?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "This greedy Muckblood strumpet that rides on the backs of Centaurs—"

Sirius stepped forward. "Don't you dare speak to her!" he said and Althea reached for his hand to calm him.

James grabbed Sirius's arm. "Mrs. Black, we're—"

"Blood traitors," she breathed, looking from James to Sirius. "I know what you've done," she said, pointing her forefinger at Sirius. "It won't last. I won't let it."

Sirius eyed his mother with an air of disdain and boredom. "Now you care that I exist?" he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Althea winced and tugged at Sirius's hand. She noticed that one of Sirius's relatives took particular interest in the confrontation. Dressed in fine black robes, his grey hair lazily fell into similar eyes, and his hand effortlessly rested upon his cane—standing with the same grace as Sirius.

Mrs. Black turned her attention toward Althea. "A _Muggle_ elopement," she said, the words obviously tasting vile upon her tongue. "You think I wouldn't have discovered? That I would be played the fool? It is you, who are the fool—you who will pay dearly for what you have done—"

"Walburga!" the man commanded—his voice had the same smooth quality as Sirius.

Mrs. Black let out a low growl. "Abomination."

The trio watched as Mrs. Black walked away, her elegant black robes billowing behind her. _She knows everything_, she thought as Sirius tenderly pressed her hand in his. _She knows what we've done_. Althea swallowed a hard breath at what Mrs. Black would do to them. _It isn't a joke anymore, Sirius. Our sham elopement is real to her_. Althea shivered from the unnaturally cold wind and the memory of Mrs. Black's threat.

"I'm so glad my dear mother was happy to see me."

"I think we should go," she said, coaxing him to walk with her.

Sirius nodded and the two walked toward the motorbike. Althea wrapped her arms around Sirius as he started the engine, but the motorbike did not move. Instead, large chunks of mud and muddy water splattered the two as the back wheel was caught in the mire. Althea stood from the motorbike and observed Sirius's attempts to remove the motorbike from the mud.

"Let me help you," she said, walking toward him.

"No, I don't need your help," he snapped, standing from the motorbike. "This damn bike won't move!" he growled, and pushed the motorbike over into the mud puddle.

Althea rested her hand on his tense shoulder as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Come on, don't worry about the bike," she said. "James will take care of it."

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll take it to the cottage," James replied, resting his hand on Sirius's other shoulder.

"Right," Sirius muttered, and with a distinct _pop_, Apparated.

"Thank you," she replied, turning toward James.

James shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands in his robe pockets. "Just go take care of him," he said and shook his head. "This was an awful—"

"I know," she said, looking toward the last of the mourners.

The finely dressed gentleman glanced at Walburga before he gave Althea a single nod.

"Very much so," she sighed.

* * *

The raindrops drummed and echoed against the roof as Althea searched the darkened cottage for Sirius. She found him, in the guest room, sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands. Quietly, she sat next to him, resting her head on his bent shoulder. Sirius did not speak, or acknowledge her presence in any other method, which he usually would have. The two sat in silence, except for the rain and the spontaneous instances of thunder. What was she to say? She knew attending Regulus's funeral would end in absolute disaster, with Sirius and herself reeling from humiliation.

The sound of tapping at the window disrupted the silence. Lifting her head at the sound, she noticed an owl she did not recognize. It was a large and pompous owl with a letter tied neatly to its leg. She sighed as she opened the window. _If it's from his mother, I'll burn the letter straight away_, she thought, closing the window. She looked at the letter in her hands and felt small relief, as the letter was not addressed to _the Blood Traitor and the Greedy Muckblood Tart_. However, the letter was addressed to _Mr. Sirius Black and Miss Althea Morrigan_, and the return address was the Ministry. Althea's stomach tightened as she walked toward the bed. _What could the Ministry possibly want with us_, she thought as she sat next to Sirius.

"Who's the letter from?" Sirius asked, lifting his head.

Althea swallowed a breath. "It's from the Ministry."

Without her protest, Sirius took the envelope from her hands and opened it. Immediately, she observed his saddened demeanor turn into one of fury. Finishing the letter, he thrust it into her lap and stood—walking toward the window.

"Read it," he said grimly, resting his hands on the windowsill.

Althea sighed as she opened the letter. "I don't believe this," she remarked as she read the first few lines of the letter. "'It has come to our knowledge of a recent Muggle Marriage between Mr. Sirius Black and Miss Althea Morrigan. Due to a recent inquiry,'" she read, but was interrupted by Sirius's derisive laughter and mutterings about his mother. "'It was found that your Marriage is not in accordance with Wizarding Law, and is therefore not recognized by the Ministry,'" she finished, furrowing her brow. "Not recognized? Isn't marriage, marriage?" she asked, resting the letter in her lap. "What would it matter—"

"Read on," Sirius replied, looking out the window.

Althea sighed as she lifted the letter. Her eyes widened slightly as she continued to read:

_According to the Wizard Engagement Declaration of 1701:_

_Wherein, a Wizard and Witch, through consent of both families are permitted to Marry under the jurisdiction of said Ministry, and that no Marriage Ceremony occurs outside Ministry jurisdiction in accordance with the International Statute of Secrecy and Legislation of Wizard Authority. The laws of Muggle Governments hold no authority over Magical Persons, and are hereby void and surrender in the presence of Wizarding Law (Legislation of Wizard Authority 1698). Hence, if a Wizard or Witch Marry a Muggle in a Muggle Ceremony, under the direction of Muggle Law, the Marriage is void…._

Althea blinked. "Oh, bloody hell. This is madness."

"Continue," he replied, hitting his fist against the windowsill.

Nervously, Althea continued to read:

_Moreover, in accordance with the Wizard Engagement Declaration of 1704 Amendment:_

_Hence, if a Wizard Marries a Witch in a Muggle Ceremony, under the direction of Muggle Law, the Marriage is void…._

Althea placed the letter in her lap, and ran her fingers through her wet, muddied hair. "I don't believe this, Sirius," she added, shaking her head. "All Muggle-born marriages would be void then, wouldn't they? I don't understand—"

"Oh, please, don't stop reading," he said, his palms leaning upon the windowsill.

Althea nodded and resumed reading the letter:

_Therefore, this Marriage, in accordance with Wizard Law, is null and void, and not recognized by the Ministry. Under such circumstances, it is customary for said parties to have a sanctioned Ministry Marriage, creating an official documentation of the Marriage; however, Mrs. Walburga Black has refused to grant consent of the Marriage. To continue as a Married Couple would violate said Wizard Laws, and those involved would face prosecution. Such Wizarding Laws were established for the protection and welfare of the family. Miss Morrigan has no entitlement or claim to any fortune or property. Furthermore, Miss Morrigan must cease and desist using the last name of Black, or face reprisals…._

Althea crumpled the letter in her hand.

Sirius grabbed the letter from her hand, threw it in to the air, and blasted it with his wand—the ashes fluttered to the floor. "I HATE THAT BLOODY WOMAN!" he roared, throwing his wand across the room.

Althea watched as the wand hit the wall, sparks flying from the tip.

"Sirius, what sort of—"

"It's a bloody law that hasn't been enforced in over one hundred years," he said quickly, his hands clenched in tight fists, "and my loving mother offered some wanker a load of gold to enforce it."

He collapsed upon the bed next to her and covered his face with his hands. Althea placed her hand upon his back.

"Oh, she's happy…I can imagine her in that awful house cackling right now," he said and growled, leaning forward. "ARE YOU HAPPY? ARE YOU HAPPY YOU STILL HAVE CONTROL OVER MY GOD DAMN LIFE?"

Althea quickly removed her hand from Sirius's back at the painful jolt of electricity.

He sighed mournfully, throwing himself against the bed. He stared up at the ceiling and said, "We have to fight this…this isn't fair."

Althea was about to remind him of their agreement, of how dangerous it was for them to fight such a ruling, but she did not. That sham elopement meant more to Sirius than she realized. _He almost died, you idiot_, she thought, the feeling of giddiness erupting in her chest. _He meant it when he made love to you_. Althea reclined next to him, and his hardened expression softened as she touched his cheek.

"As long as she's alive, I'll never be happy."

"That's not true."

"She'll keep enforcing that law," he explained, taking her hand from his cheek. "It'll be the only time she'll gladly acknowledge that I'm her son."

"She won't—"

"She'll never change."

Her heart skipped at his earnest expression.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.

Sirius smelled of earth and motor oil. She closed her eyes.

"Right, well, there's not much I can do," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

"You could always kill her," she said, listening to Sirius's heartbeat.

"That did cross my mind, but she'd haunt me from the grave."

"Or you could live Muggle, and when she dies, marry in a Ministry-sanctioned ceremony," she proposed, slightly lifting her head from his chest.

"Oh, she wouldn't like that either," he replied, a small smirk emerging on his face. "She would still haunt me from the grave."

Althea smiled mischievously. "You could just _live_ with your girlfriend and have loads of bastard children…parade them about Diagon Alley any chance you got."

Sirius cracked a smile. "I could."

"_Imagine_ how horrified your mother would be, then!" she said and tugged at his collar. "Oh, the scandal at Hogwarts!"

Sirius chuckled softly.

"She wouldn't be able to do a thing about it—no marriage, Muggle or magic, to interfere with."

Sirius raised his hand to her cheek—his expression grateful. "You're bloody brilliant."


	41. Godric's Hollow, Late July 1980

**Godric's Hollow, Late July 1980**

"Stupid bike!" Sirius growled, throwing a screwdriver across the garage.

The screwdriver hit the wall and crashed to the ground, creating an awful, high-pitched sound against the concrete floor. Althea winced at the sound, but walked forward.

"Would you like some help?" she asked, stopping behind the bent figure of Sirius.

Sirius glared at her from over his shoulder. "Fine," he sighed, and crawled underneath his levitated motorbike.

Althea knelt down next to him and waited for instruction. Her eyes drifted to Sirius's white t-shirt dirtied by motor oil and to the bare skin of his partially exposed stomach as he reached underneath the motorbike. She caught herself sighing and shook her head.

"Hand me the socket," Sirius said from underneath his motorbike.

"The what?"

"The _socket_," he said with slight agitation—his outstretched hand, grasping for a tool.

Althea rummaged through the toolbox, and Sirius sighed with palpable frustration.

"Never mind, just get over here and hold this," he demanded.

Althea crawled across the cold, concrete floor, and with both hands, held the metal part to the motorbike. Her arm tiring, she watched Sirius find the socket and crawl to her side. _If he could find it so easily then why did he ask me_, she thought as Sirius took the socket to the metal part Althea had been holding. _I have no idea what any of this stuff is. I didn't actually think he'd want my help_.

"Done," he muttered, sliding himself from underneath the motorbike. "This," he said, holding up the metal, t-shaped instrument with a hollow end, "this is a socket."

Sirius tossed the socket it into the toolbox and Althea winced at the sound of clanking metal. He looked at Althea, then at the toolbox, and shook his head.

"Grandfather was a Muggle and she doesn't know what a socket is," he teased, smirking.

"Not all Muggles know how to fix a motorbike," she said, folding her arms. "Usually, they pay someone to do that for them."

"Why would anyone pay for someone to fix his bike?" he asked, looking appreciatively at his motorbike. "It's fun to do it yourself."

Althea laughed and stretched her arms behind her on the cold, concrete floor. "Since you find fixing your motorbike fun, I have some other things round the cottage that need fixing," she said, smiling. "Like the fence that needs mending, the dripping tap in the kitchen, the leaky roof—"

"I'll stay with my bike, thanks," he said and ran his fingers through his hair.

Althea wrinkled her nose and frowned.

"What?" he asked, scratching his chin.

Althea snickered at the black grease marks left on his chin. "Sirius, you have grease all over you, and you just put grease in your hair."

Sirius looked at his soiled hands and frowned. "You're right," he sighed. "I'll have a bath before I leave," he said and stood.

"No, you're not going to bathe here," she said, shaking her head. "The last time it took me a day of scrubbing to remove the dirt and oil from my bathtub," she explained, sitting upright.

Sirius grabbed a towel from the workbench. "Why didn't you just use a Cleaning Charm?" he asked, wiping his soiled hands with the towel.

"Cleaning Charms aren't efficient at removing motor oil," she explained, bringing her knees to her chin. "You can bathe at your flat."

"I don't want my bath all dirty," he replied and threw the soiled towel at her face.

Althea caught the towel. "Sirius, this is disgusting," she said, holding the towel far from her. "Why did you throw this at me?"

Sirius shrugged and leaned back against the workbench. "It was something to do," he remarked and laughed.

"Something to do," she repeated and threw the towel at him.

Sirius caught it and placed it next to him.

"That's it," she said and stood. "I want a divorce."

Sirius folded his arms and threw his head back in laughter. "You can't divorce me," he said laughingly. "According to the Ministry we were never married."

"Thank God," she remarked, leaning against the workbench. "I mean, who'd want to be married to you?" she teased, folding her arms—mimicking Sirius.

"Loads of girls, actually," he replied thoughtfully.

"Oh, loads of girls," she repeated with mock thoughtfulness.

"Yes, loads—you were one once," he said, resting his hands on the workbench.

Althea felt the apples of her cheeks pink. She bit her lip. "Anyway, all of these women—it must be the reason you're always at my cottage fixing your motorbike?" she conjectured, kicking the concrete floor with her heel.

"I have to have a break from them sometime," he replied and playfully kicked her heel with his foot.

Althea laughed, which produced a puzzled expression on Sirius's face.

"What is so funny?" he asked, sliding closer to her.

"You," she answered, stifling her laughter. "You haven't been on a date in ages. When you're not working for the Order, you're with your mates, or you're at my cottage fixing your bike or finding other ways to amuse yourself," she explained, playfully kicking his foot.

Sirius rested his arm behind her on the workbench and laughed to himself. "I do find you amusing," he mused and smiled. "Is there something wrong by surprising you with breakfast?"

"It is a bit unnerving to wake up and find you in my kitchen," she explained, sliding closer to him. "However, I reckon the real reason you cook me breakfast is to see if I have a man over."

"That is absolutely ridiculous, like you'd have a man over," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You don't know how many times I've popped over to find you asleep on the sofa or at the kitchen table. If it wasn't for me, you'd never sleep in your bed."

Althea laughed and rubbed her forehead. "You're right—I'd never sleep in my bed," she replied and absentmindedly placed her arm behind him. "I should reduce the amount of hours I'm working."

"You should. You look tired."

"I'm _exhausted_, and I feel especially awful today," she said, massaging her lower back. "Helping the Longbottoms' Midwife two days ago took it out of me," she explained, rubbing the back of her neck. "Three Midwives for one birth, _and_ he wasn't born until yesterday." Althea groaned.

"Here," Sirius said softly, and started to massage her shoulders. "So, it was a difficult labor, then?" he asked, massaging tender spot on the nape of her neck.

"Mhmm," she replied, closing her eyes. "He was a week late."

"A week?" he asked, massaging her upper back.

Althea's head dropped forward—her long hair falling over her shoulders and into her face. "Mhmm. Madam Doula had to induce labor—she didn't have the potion so she owled me," she answered sleepily. "She owled me two days ago at ten and the baby boy wasn't born until five yesterday morning."

"Ugh, you were at James's until nine before that," he said quietly, kneading a particularly tight knot deep in her lower back.

"Mhmm, and then at six in the morning yesterday, I was called on emergency to St. Mungo's after the giant attack on that Muggle village."

What an awful attack that had been—Muggle homes leveled, cars overturned and trees uprooted. St. Mungo's immediately owled all able Healers and former Healers to assist the already overworked Healers with the enormous amount of Muggle casualties. The ground floor was converted into a makeshift triage with Muggles lying on hastily conjured cots along the walls and out into the corridors. Althea had spent the last day and a half at St. Mungo's tending to the Muggle patients requiring the quickest medical attention. Upon her arrival, she—with great reluctance—had to make the awful decision to treat those that were capable of recovery and give comfort to those she knew would not survive.

"I didn't know St. Mungo's owled you," he said and stopped massaging her lower back.

"They did," she replied, shutting her eyes tightly as images of broken bodies flashed before her eyes.

Sirius sighed and resumed massaging her shoulders. "Absolutely awful…that attack."

"It was."

"You haven't had any sleep, then?" he replied softly, running his fingertips up and down her spine.

"None," she muttered and smiled as her back tingled underneath his fingertips. "Well, except for the short nap I took."

"I'll have to draw you a warm bath later," he whispered in her ear, running his hands up and down her arms.

"That sounds wonderful, but you're not getting in the bath with me," she remarked, smiling a tired smile. "You're all dirty," she added, and waited for Sirius's reply.

Sirius sighed, which widened her smile. "Excuses, excuses," he murmured, his breath warming her neck. "Anyway, you're lucky Lily's not due until two weeks into August," he remarked, removing his hands from her shoulders. "You'll be able to sleep until then."

Althea frowned, grabbed his hands, and placed them on her shoulders. "You're not done yet," she said, waiting for Sirius to continue massaging her shoulders.

"Why should I keep this up? I'm not going to get anything out of it," he joked and Althea pinched his side.

She laughed as Sirius pinched her side, but frowned when she looked at the grease mark left on her shirt.

"Oh, don't get angry about that bit of grease on you shirt," he said, pointing to the mark. "You should see your back."

Althea sighed and continued to look at her shirt. "I'll have to change my shirt then," she said, tugging her shirt. "I'll be back."

Sirius nodded and Althea started for the door; unexpectedly, with a loud _pop_ James appeared in the garage. His face pale and his demeanor agitated, he hurried toward Sirius and Althea. Sirius ran forward and grasped James at his elbows.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked anxiously.

James took in large breath and exhaled before he spoke. "Lily's water broke!" he said rapidly and Sirius looked at Althea for translation.

Althea rushed to James' side and rested her hand on his shoulder. "It's something about Lily, right?" she asked and James nodded. "She's having the baby?"

"Yes, yes!" James replied nervously, nodding his head. "Hurry—her water broke!"

Althea rested her other hand on his other shoulder. "James, listen to me. Go home and stay by Lily's side. I'll be there shortly," she said, looking into his eyes. "Now, go home—everything will be fine."

James nodded and with another loud _pop_, left the garage. Althea sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. _Two weeks early—it's probably the stress of the last attack_, she thought as she rubbed her tired eyes. _I just pray everything goes well. I hope that three hour nap I had will do for now. The Longbottoms yesterday, Lily today…will any other babies decide to come early? August first is open_.

"I'll change my shirt and then I'll Apparate over," she informed Sirius. "Don't worry. James is just a nervous father."

Sirius laughed nervously. "I don't think I'd be like that," he remarked, running his fingers through the back of his hair.

Althea smiled. "Yes, you would. All new fathers are nervous," she replied, walking toward the door. "You'd be worse."

As she opened the door, Sirius spoke, "Good luck."

Althea's grin widened. "Thanks, but I'm not the one having the baby. I just scream at her to push and make sure James doesn't faint and hit his head," she replied and exited the garage.

* * *

"_Puerperium medicari_," Althea said, pointing her wand directly at Lily's lower spine.

Immediately, Lily relaxed.

"Thanks," Lily breathed as James helped her onto her back.

Althea smiled and wiped the wet, red hair from Lily's eyes. "Now, let's see how far we have to go before I get to see my favorite baby," she added, lifting the sheet and examining Lily. "So, why did you wait?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked over the sheet.

"What?"

"Having James fetch me," she answered with a smirk as she rested the sheet over Lily's legs. "I believe birth is more important than motorbike maintenance," she insinuated and winked at Lily.

"I believe our baby would understand," Lily replied and smiled weakly. "Motorbike maintenance is highly important."

"Yes, a massage with motor oil is highly important," she remarked and Lily raised her eyebrows. "I'll tell you _after_ my favorite baby's born."

"How long?"

"Not long. I say in about an hour," she answered and Lily frowned. "Hey, I could have said three."

Carefully washing her hands, Althea chuckled as she heard Lily groan about the baby's delay.

"I would have hexed you if you said three," Lily said, shifting upon the bed. "Anyway, did Alice have her baby?"

Althea nodded and took a stethoscope from her bag. "A huge baby boy," she replied, listening to the sounds of the baby from Lily's abdomen. "When I had arrived, she was only a third dilated, so Madam Doula had to use the Inducing Potion, but it was still seven hours until she had the baby," she explained as she slung the stethoscope around her neck.

"Seven hours," Lily said, wide-eyed.

Althea yawned as she sat in a chair by Lily's bedside. "She was already in labor for six. Some women have longer labors than that," she explained, rubbing the side of her face. "However, yours will be one of those easy labors other women hate hearing about," she teased in an attempt to ease Lily's fears.

"_Easy labor_," she muttered, massaging her enlarged stomach. "Yeah, just wait until you have an _easy_ labor. You won't think it _easy_ anymore."

Althea laughed. "I'll be the worst pregnant woman ever," she mused, tapping the armrest. "You'll have to put a Silencing Charm on me and take my wand away." Althea smiled as Lily laughed quietly. "Honestly, there is nothing to worry about. You'll do fine," she reassured her friend, as she sat forward. "You're doing wonderfully now."

Lily smiled as James kissed the top of her head. "I hope so," she sighed, taking his hand in hers. "It's just the baby's early."

"Yeah, is that okay?" James asked, concerned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I was two weeks early," replied Althea. "I think I've only assisted one birth where the baby arrived on the exact day."

James looked confused. "This is your first time not assisting a birth?" he asked with a slight rise of panic in his voice.

Althea bit her lip to hide her laughter. "I've never had a baby," she replied, unable to hide her laughter. "I don't push the baby out for the mother."

Althea's laughter quieted upon hearing a noise outside the room. James heard the noise as well and stood—his expression quickly transformed from embarrassment to apprehension.

"It's probably Sirius," she said, looking at the door.

"Oh, I don't want him in here when I'm giving birth," Lily replied, looking darkly toward the door as she attempted to sit up. James immediately rushed to her side to help her, but Lily slapped his hand. "I can move myself," she snapped, and Althea snickered. "What are you laughing at?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Have to take your wand away," Althea replied cheekily and patted Lily's foot. "Anyway, I'll go see who's here," she added despite Lily's scowl.

Althea left the spare bedroom and quietly crept down the staircase, mindful of the third step that creaked. _Please let it be Sirius or someone from the Order_, she thought, grasping firmly her wand. The thought of battling with a Death Eater while Lily gave birth created sharp pains in her stomach. However, as Althea reached the drawing room, her fears subsided as she observed Peter sitting across for Remus and Sirius.

"You never find one with without the others," she remarked, leaning against the doorframe. "Did you bring the rest of the Order, too, or are you the only members?"

"Oh, you know we can't tell you that," Sirius replied, resting his head against the back of the sofa.

Althea ignored Sirius's comment. "Remus, I didn't know you were back in England," she said happily, walking to Remus' side.

Remus stood and greeted her with a warm embrace.

"Yeah, I returned for the birth," he replied, rubbing her back. "Thankfully, I returned early."

Althea frowned as Sirius mimicked her eagerness to see Remus—much to the delight of a snickering Peter.

"Don't pay attention to him," he whispered as he released her.

"I don't," she answered, frowning, as Sirius rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I have to return upstairs. We heard noises and I went to investigate," she explained, slowly backing toward the staircase. "I'll tell you when the baby's born, then?"

"What? We have to stay here?" Sirius asked, folding his arms.

"Of course, you have to stay here," she answered, resting her hand on the staircase railing. "Lily specifically said that _you_ had to stay here."

Sirius pursed his lips and opened his mouth. "But what if you need help?" he asked, a small smile emerging across his face.

"I'll call on another Midwife," she replied—mimicking his smile.

Althea hurried up the staircase, but calmly entered the spare bedroom. _Oh, Lily will be pleased_, she thought, as she entered the spare bedroom. _Not only is Sirius here, but Remus and Peter—I wonder if Mad Eye will come later to give all of them the play by play from the drawing room whilst Lily is upstairs pushing_. James seemed relieved that Althea had returned and shoved his wand in his robe pocket.

"It's your friends, James," Althea said, walking over to Lily's bedside.

"_Friends_?" Lily repeated—the agitation and annoyance bursting from her voice. "Althea, go downstairs and tell them to go home!"

Althea carefully sat on the edge of the bed. "I think it's better they're here. It gives us the added protection we need—not that anything will happen."

Lily's expression turned grave. "We shouldn't even be having this baby," she muttered darkly. "This was an absolute mistake."

"No," James whispered soothingly, and kissed the top of her head. "It will get better."

"Better?" she growled through an obvious contraction, grabbing James's forearm. "We're putting an innocent life in danger."

"Lily," James whispered, resting his head atop her sweat-drenched head. "We can't let him rule our lives. To carry on with our normal lives is the biggest protest we can make against him," he explained softly, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it.

"James is right," Althea added, lifting the sheet to inspect Lily. "I can't think of a better way," she continued and smiled as she placed the sheet over Lily's legs. "I think it's about time you see your son."

* * *

"Look at Harry's hair," Lily said softly, attempting to smooth her son's thick, black hair.

The three laughed as the smoothed hair stood up.

"James, it's your hair," she added happily.

"Yeah," he murmured and sniffed back tears.

Lily handed him Harry, and while James held Harry, Althea helped Lily finish the rest of her labor. Taking her wand from her pocket, she muttered a charm for Lily's soreness, and went into the bathroom to clean up. _Harry is finally here_, Althea thought as she turned off the tap. _Lily is actually a mother—my best friend—the girl who I stayed up all night with chatting about boys, snogging, and clothes_. Althea walked into the spare bedroom, performed a few Cleaning Charms, and sat at the end of the bed. Althea smiled, tears forming in her eyes, as she looked upon Lily and baby Harry. _You're so beautiful_, she thought as Lily's finger stroked Harry's tiny cheek.

"Would you like to hold him?" Lily asked, smiling.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to hold him?" she replied and bit her lip.

"I'm sure," Lily replied and presented Althea with the wrapped Harry.

Althea awkwardly took Harry into her arms. "Hello, Harry," she whispered, gazing at the sleeping baby in her arms. "He's beautiful," she said and kissed Harry's forehead.

"You probably want one now," Lily replied as James helped her shift in the bed.

Althea smiled as Harry squirmed and yawned in her arms. "I do," she said quietly, stroking the side of Harry's face. "I want a whole Quidditch team," she added and kissed Harry again. "Anyway, I better tell the godfather the good news."

"Right," James smiled.

Althea carefully handed Harry back to Lily. "Would you like Sirius to see him?"

"Yeah, we'd like that," James said, staring at Harry.

Althea left the spare bedroom and wiped her eyes as she walked down the staircase. _Harry is perfect_, she thought as the third step creaked from underneath her feet. _I hope I'll have children every bit as beautiful as him_. Althea entered the drawing room to find Sirius, with his head in his hands, sitting next to a calm Remus and across from a bored Peter. Remus was the first to notice Althea's entrance and nudged Sirius. Sirius—pale—looked up, immediately stood, and rushed to Althea.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, resting his hands atop her shoulders—the anxiety apparent on his face.

"Everything is fine," she answered, smiling.

Sirius's nervousness faded. "So—so the baby's here, then?" he asked—a grin forming.

Althea nodded and Sirius hoisted her into the air—spinning her around above him.

"This is fantastic!" he replied happily, and Althea laughed as he continued to spin her around. Sirius stopped spinning her around and held her close to him. "I'm a godfather," he said excitedly, nuzzling her neck.

"James would like you to come see the baby," she said, reluctantly pulling away from him.

"Oh, right," he replied, running his hand through the back of his hair.

Althea led Sirius up the staircase and to the spare bedroom. Opening the door, she allowed Sirius to enter first. Sitting next to him on the bed, she watched as James handed him Harry. He held Harry uneasily at first, but quickly grew accustomed to the wiggling, kicking baby.

"So?" James asked, smiling proudly.

Sirius, awestruck, looked up from Harry. "I don't know what to say—he's so small," he replied, stroking Harry's small, pink hand.

Harry's tiny fingers clasped onto Sirius's index finger, causing Sirius to smile.

"He has my finger," he said, fascinated, turning his gaze toward Althea. "Look at that."

Althea smiled at the interaction between Sirius and Harry. "Isn't he perfect?" she commented, resting her head against Sirius' shoulder.

Althea briefly closed her eyes as Sirius kissed the top of her head. "He is," he replied and smiled as Harry sucked on his pinky finger.

* * *

After Remus and Peter left, Althea remained in the drawing room—allowing for James and Lily to bond with little Harry. She would spend the rest of the evening and night at their home, periodically monitoring Lily's condition. _What I really want to do is go home, crawl into my bed, and sleep for days_, she thought, bringing her knees to her chest. The lack of sleep drained her body of its energy and she recognized this. There were times, like this, which she realized she did not _have_ to work. She had enough money—her father had left her a large amount of money that would sustain her for the rest of her life. However, she _wanted_ to work and to contribute something useful to the world. _My life would be a total waste if I didn't do something_, she thought, resting her chin against her knees. _It's just every time I try to cut my hours, something happens. Healers dying, Midwives dying…there won't be enough soon. My training was accelerated by two years. Now training is at minimum at St. Mungo's now…it's scary_.

"Here," Sirius said, offering her a cup of coffee.

The smell of coffee and Sirius's voice jolted her from her thoughts. "Thanks," she replied, taking the cup of coffee. She took a sip and observed as Sirius sat next to her. "You don't have to stay here," she said, resting the cup on her knee.

Sirius laughed quietly as he placed his cup on the coffee table. "Someone has to keep you company," he replied, stretching his arms out before him.

"So I don't fall asleep," she replied and took another sip of coffee.

"Exactly," he replied, reaching for the cup on the table. "You know, you should call another Midwife and have her take over for you," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "That way you could go home and get some rest. I have my motorbike, I'll take you home."

"I know," she sighed, rubbing her eye. "However, it's such short notice that I don't think anyone would come," she explained, looking at the milky brown liquid in her cup. "Plus, I want to look after Lily and Harry myself," she added and smiled tiredly. "Thank you, anyway."

"Yeah, isn't Harry amazing? Looks exactly like James too," he said, smiling to himself.

"He does have Lily's nose," she said and took another sip.

"I suppose he does," he agreed and placed his coffee cup on the table. "Bloody hell," he sighed, throwing his head back against the sofa. "I never thought James would have a kid."

"It's hard to believe for Lily, too," she replied, placing her empty cup next to his. "It changes a lot of things, doesn't it?"

Sirius lifted his head and turned it toward Althea. "It changes everything," he replied solemnly.

Althea slid closer to Sirius. "Like what?" she asked, resting the side of her head against the top of the sofa.

"Oh, I don't know," Sirius began, sliding closer to her. "I mean look at us, Althea. We're young and have our whole lives ahead of us, but this bastard's out there trying to take our futures away from us," he continued, resting his head against the top of the sofa. "It's unfair—that's all—I guess," he finished and sighed.

"Like we have to grow up too quickly," Althea added, studying Sirius.

Sirius nodded.

"I have to admit," she began and lifted her head from the sofa, "when Lily and James told us that she was pregnant, I was happy, but a part of me resented it. I wondered if there wasn't a war would there even be a baby or a marriage."

Sirius abruptly lifted his head. "I didn't know you felt that way too? I thought I was the only one that felt those things."

"I felt them," she replied, looking at her hands in her lap. "However, observing them today, there is no doubt it was all supposed to happen."

"Yeah," he replied, smiling to himself.

"However, it still makes me question every decision I've made or make," she said and gently bit her bottom lip. "I wonder if I'm ready for certain things or if I'm worried that I won't have a future for those things."

"Like marriage and children," he added thoughtfully.

Althea nodded.

"You know, I wonder those same things, too—marriage and children—I mean," he said, taking her hands in his.

"What do you think about?" she asked, her muscles in her abdomen tightening.

Sirius shrugged, looking at their hands. "I'm not like James."

"I've noticed," she remarked softly and Sirius laughed quietly. Althea leaned closer and whispered, "I'm not like Lily."

"I've noticed," he whispered and looked up. Something flickered in Sirius's eyes and his lips contorted into a small smile. "You're not interested in marriage and children, are you?"

"Eventually, but it isn't my highest priority," she answered, and looked to the doorway. "I love my work too much to quit now…although it is tiring—_exhausting_ even." Her eyes returned to Sirius and she raised an eyebrow in interest. "Are you?"

Sirius vigorously shook his head. "I'd misplace the baby," he answered and laughed to himself. "I have James's work now—it'd be impossible—"

"_And_ you've tired of girls accosting you with the 'M-word,'" she finished for him, and winked when he smiled appreciatively at her. "What is the obsession? There are more important issues to worry about than having a wizard's last name," she continued, fighting a smile as Sirius eyed her with some confusion. "What?"

"I thought—our seventh-year—I thought you wanted to," he remembered, his expression contorting into confusion and disbelief.

"I thought you did," she laughed, releasing her hands from his. "You're the one that asked!"

"It was something to do—I didn't know you'd take me up on it!" he remarked and shook his head as he laughed. He sighed and took her hands in his. "It was right at the time."

"It was," she murmured, and tenderly pressed his hands in hers, "but now…."

"Now," he murmured and furrowed his eyebrows as if he was struggling with something. He lightly chewed his bottom lip as he looked at her, and then, he sighed. "I don't think I was ever truly in love with you," he said, and realizing how awful it sounded, quickly shook his head. "Wait—wait—that came out terribly wrong!" he added quickly with visible embarrassment.

Althea laughed. "That came out awful!" she teased and squeezed his hands. "But, go on," she added, smiling.

Sirius laughed and sighed. "What I _meant_ was I loved you but—"

"But now it's different," she finished for him.

Sirius cocked his head to side and raised an eyebrow. "Do you?" he asked, visibly surprised.

Althea smiled. "Do you?"

A large smile emerged across Sirius's face. "I asked you first," he reminded laughingly.

Althea lightly licked her lips. "I do," she said as Sirius's grin widened. "I love you."

"You don't care—"

"I don't…I want you," she whispered as she leaned closer to him. "Do you?"

"Always," he murmured as his thumb stroked her jaw.

Althea let out a quiet laugh.

"What?" he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"It's peculiar—that's all," she whispered, playing with the hair on the back of his head.

"It is," he answered quietly and leisurely pressed his parted lips to hers.

Remembering she had to check on Lily's condition, Althea slowly and reluctantly pulled away from Sirius. "I have check on Lily," she said quietly, resting her forehead against his.

"That's why we're here," he sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll still be here."

Suddenly, Althea realized something _odd_ about Sirius. He did not smell as he usually did of frankincense—there was something _floral_ about his smell. Althea started to sniff his hair and Sirius, obviously puzzled, gently pushed her away from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Smelling you," she explained and attempted to remember that smell. "You smell different."

"What are you talking about? I don't smell different—"

"Yes, you do. You smell—you smell like _my shampoo_," she replied, her eyes narrowing.

"_I do not_," he replied, incensed. "I don't use those girlie things."

"You would if you took a bath at my home _after I told you not to_."

Sirius smiled sheepishly. "Now—now don't get angry. I'll clean your bath," he pleaded, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't want to miss the birth. You understand, don't you?"

"Duty as a godfather," she teased and ruffled his hair.


	42. St Mungo's Hospital, September 1980

**St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, September 1980**

"MUGGLES AREN'T LIKE WIZARDS!" the Healer in Chief yelled at the trainee. "HOLD THE BLOODY SHEET CLOSED! DON'T MOVE!"

Althea gulped as she passed the man whose legs were splayed out like an open book. _A Muggle hospital would know how to deal with such a fracture_, she thought as she passed another Muggle who held a blood-soaked rag to his head. Althea sighed as she looked about at the Ward for Broom Injuries—usually a calm place frequented by elite Quidditch players—her former posh ward. Healers, Trainees, and Caretakers rushed about at least thirty cots—all filled with injured Muggles.

"Morrigan, thank God."

Althea turned to face a tall man with graying hair in lime green robes. "Who hasn't been seen?" she asked as the Caretaker placed a sheet over the body on the cot three over from them.

"Follow me," Healer Bugg said and nodded for Althea to follow.

Healer Bugg walked quickly and it was difficult for Althea to keep up as she dodged cots and Caretakers. _Good Lord, what happened_, she thought as they past a groaning woman with a broken ankle that jutted out at almost ninety degrees. Large purple blisters were already forming upon her ankle.

"An attack on a Muggle market," he said loudly as they exited the ward and entered the Ward for Cauldron Explosion. More Healers and Caretakers tended to victims with large fluffy gauze wrapped around their faces and hands. "Fiendfyre…the sick fucks."

"Indeed," Althea breathed, shaking her head.

Althea followed Healer Bugg into the Ward for Backfired Spells. Her heart sank as she saw a lone family of four huddled together upon one cot. Cuddled in his mother's arms was boy with messy brown hair no more than five-years-old. _Damn it_, she thought as the girl—no more than eight—clung to her father. Althea removed her lime green robe to reveal her Muggle clothes underneath.

"Parents are worse off than the children," he muttered and Althea nodded. "Won't let go of them."

Althea looked to the parents. "I wouldn't, either."

Healer Bugg clapped Althea on the back and left her alone with the family. _Who would do this to children_, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek. Althea stepped forward, quietly carrying a chair with her. She would hope to learn details about the incident so she could pass that very important information on to certain members of the Order. Not a member herself, Althea did find that her time at St. Mungo's was helpful for she could piece together certain aspects of the attacks. _I'm just as good as_, she thought, sitting across from the family.

"Hello," she said, leaning forward and smiling pleasantly, "I'm Althea."

The little boy buried his face in toward his mother's chest.

Althea frowned thoughtfully as she looked to the mother.

"You look awfully young," she said, eyeing Althea warily.

Althea smiled. "I would like to help you."

"We'd like to go home," she replied, stroking her son's back.

"Very much so," Althea replied, turning her head to the side as she looked at the young boy. "I just want to see that they're all right and that you're all right," she said, forcing herself to have the most pleasant expression possible as the woman eyed her with dubious contempt. "Then I can release you."

"What are you?"

"A doctor—"

"No, you're not," the woman said, narrowing her eyes.

"Just let her do her job," the father said and sighed. "I twisted my bloody ankle and it's throbbing!"

"Could I?" Althea asked, gesturing toward the man's leg.

The man nodded. "Anything."

Althea crouched before the man and gingerly slipped off his shoe and sock. "What happened?" she asked as she carefully examined the man's ankle.

"I twisted it—"

"How?"

"You bloody well know how!" the man said through gritted teeth. "Those freaks that blew everything up!"

Althea nodded and carefully disguised her wand with her hand as she continued to examine his ankle. "_Talus Brostrom_," she muttered and the swelling and bruising to the man's ankle disappeared.

The man sighed and wiggled his ankle. "What? How?" he wondered, looking at his healed ankle.

"A little trick I learned at university," she lied and winked.

Without any more question, the man had Althea examine his daughter. The girl had nothing more than a few bumps and bruises her legs and arms, which Althea healed quickly. _What they'll really need is an Obliviator_, she thought as she mended the gash upon the girl's knee. Althea knew that Memory Charms were powerful and the wizards in the Ministry were quite skilled, but she wondered that despite the modification of memory, if some small part of the true memory remained. She wondered if the Muggles felt as if "something was not quite right." _How could a person go through all this unscathed_, she thought as she looked toward the mother. _Are Memory Charms adequate_? The mother relented and allowed Althea to examine her son. The boy squirmed and cried until Althea allowed him to hold her wand.

"Come on," Althea encouraged as the boy pointed her wand at her. "Curse me again!"

"Boom!"

"Oh!" Althea yelped and fell backward onto the cold floor. She looked up at the ceiling and laughed. "An excellent curse!"

Althea sat up, smiling at the boy. She gently eased her wand from him. "I reckon you'll really like this," she said and flicked her wand anti-clockwise. "_Avis_."

A flock of four finches appeared and Althea grinned as she guided them through the air. The boy and his family cheered happily. Althea waved her wand and the finches vanished.

"Right," she breathed, smiling at the boy. "Could I mend that cut above your eye?" she asked, pouting slightly.

"I didn't hurt, James," Katherine said, taking her brother's hand.

James sniffed and nodded.

Althea raised her wand and gently held her wand to the cut above his eye. She whispered the charm and slowly dragged her wand across the cut. The boy blinked when she finished.

"There, perfect," she whispered, admiring her work. "You were fiercely brave."

The boy smiled weakly.

"And now, you, mum?" Althea asked, smiling at the mother.

The mother nodded and held out her bruised arm.

Althea mended the injuries to the mother and the father as the children ran and twirled about the empty ward. After she was finished, she led the family to the Muggle surgery (she marveled at its accuracy—three month old magazines, ghastly wallpaper, and posters encouraging a brisk walk) where the Obliviators waited. She sat the boy upon the examination table and waited for the Obliviators to synchronize their charms. _How I loathe how often we must do this_, she thought, slinging the stethoscope around her neck.

"Right, then?" she breathed brightly.

The head Obliviator nodded.

"_Obliviate_!"

The family blinked and shook their heads for a few moments—enough time for the Obliviators to leave. Althea smiled pleasantly at the family as they came to their senses.

"Right," she sighed, pretending to examine the boy's head. "Nothing more than a bump on the head."

"A bump on the head?"

"A bump on the head," she replied as the boy massaged his temple. "He'll be just fine," she added and held up a red lolly. "Lolly?"

The boy grabbed at the lolly and Althea winked at him.

"Thank you," the mother said, massaging her wrist. "You've put our minds at ease."

* * *

The lime green robe was rolled up underneath Althea's arm as she exited St. Mungo's. She stopped before she entered the street and rubbed her forehead. Her eyes downcast, she stared at the street and at the reflection of the streetlamp in the puddle. Her heavy eyes lost their focus and that thick film that seemed to cover her eyes, as if it would be too much of an effort to close them, returned. How she hated that feeling, in which the most basic, most human movement became too tiresome. _I don't know how much more I can take_, she thought, finding her tired mind mesmerized by the yellow glow of the streetlamp's reflection. She felt the robe slipping from her arm and she readjusted it. She felt uneasy in the darkness—she knew she was not alone.

"Althea?"

Althea looked up and slowly smiled. Sirius, smiling, stood against his motorbike—his eyes wary of what was around him. Althea quickly walked toward him—God, how he looked gorgeous against that motorbike—still in the clothes he wore for their date. _I'll make it up to him after some sleep_, she thought, smoothing his collar.

"Hello, lovely," he murmured, sliding his arms around her waist.

Althea rested her face against his shoulder. "God, it was awful," she whispered, feeling Sirius hold her tighter. "Fiendfyre."

She felt Sirius throw his head back.

"Right," he sighed and kissed her cheek. "Home, straight away."

Althea smiled tiredly, pulling away from him. "You don't have to—"

Sirius winked. "I don't mind—"

Suddenly, the ground shook from an explosion, knocking the couple to the puddle-filled street. Sirius tightly held onto Althea, instinctively positioning himself between her and the blast. She felt the rush of hot air against them as Sirius buried their faces. Glass, pulverized to sand, pelted her skin. Althea panicked as she gasped for breath for what seemed like ages for the unbearable heat to dissipate.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked, roughly stroking Althea's cheek.

Althea nodded. "What happened?"

Sirius was grim-faced as he stared at St. Mungo's. Althea turned her head and gasped—smoke and fire billowed out of the second floor.

Sirius quickly turned Althea's face toward him. "Take my bike and go," he said, his face illuminated by the fire.

Althea shook her head. "My patients—"

Sirius did not wait for her response but charged forward with his wand drawn. Althea quickly followed and ducked as Sirius's blasted the doors to St. Mungo's open. Overturned chairs and tables with curtains on fire greeted the couple as they entered the waiting room. Sirius forcefully tossed Althea out of the way as a jet of blue light soared past. Sirius growled and ran forward with his wand slashing the air. Althea entered the first ward—her adrenalin overcoming her horror at disfigured and dismembered Muggles—she shouted at the remaining Caretakers and Healers to help her gather what Muggles they could and get them out. Some did as they were told, but others ran by Althea toward their own safety.

"Hurry!" she scolded as the Caretakers levitated the Muggles toward the entrance. "_PROTEGO_!"

Althea ran forward as a large silver dog formed from the tip of Sirius's wand. Suddenly, James, Remus, and others that she believed to be Order members surrounded Althea.

"What happened?" James yelled as more members—among them Emmeline and Dorcas—appeared with their wands at the ready.

"Attack on Muggles!" Sirius yelled, looking around him. "Death Eaters are finishing what they started!"

"Potter, Lupin," Moody barked, "upstairs with me! Shacklebolt, you take the farthest corridor with Longbottom! Black!"

"Yes?" Sirius shouted and thrashed the air with his wand.

"Keep your trousers up long enough to fight!"

Sirius grinned.

A woman with blood splattered lime green robes ran forward. "THEY'RE KILLING THEM OUTSIDE!"

Panic coursed through Althea's veins. "Fuck!" she breathed, running her fingers through her soot-covered hair. "I—I don't know what to do?"

"Do what you can!" Remus said, placing his hand upon Althea's shoulder. An explosion from above caused bits of plaster to fall. "We'll handle the Death Eaters!"

Althea nodded and the group rushed forward. Althea went about the wards putting out the fires and tending to the Muggles that were still alive. Few of the Healers and Caretakers remained—and one Caretaker in particular threatened any Healer or Caretaker that thought of leaving his post with an Unforgivable. Althea entered the smoke-filled corridor and narrowly missed a burst of red light that streaked through the corridor. She heard it make contact with an agonizing scream a ward away.

"_AVADA_—"

Althea gasped and threw herself against the wall as the jet of green light exploded upon floor where she had stood. The Death Eater screamed and Althea thrust and slashed the air with her wand. Through the thick black smoke, the Death Eater countered and Althea had little time to block his curse. The jet of purple light hit her abdomen and she felt herself catapulted into the air—her body thrown against the wall, shattering the wall sconce. She gasped once more as her body was thrown against the opposite wall—her left shoulder receiving the full impact. Pain and numbness radiated down her left arm as she slid down the wall. There was no time to reduce her dislocated shoulder for she heard the Death Eater's footsteps running toward her.

Althea stood. "No!" she growled, narrowing her eyes to see through the smoke. "_INFLIGO_!"

The ball of bright blue light erupted at the Death Eater's abdomen, briefly illuminating his form before he was thrust back into the burning corridor. Without hesitation, Althea turned and, with head bent, rushed forward to the remaining wards. An orange-colored curse flew above her head and Althea ducked. She turned her head to see another Death Eater in pursuit of her. She pointed her wand over her shoulder and cast a Shield Charm as she ran. The Death Eater continued after her and, as Althea turned to cast a curse, she stumbled over something large and solid, her legs giving out underneath her. Althea's back hit the floor first—its impact taking her breath away. She moaned as she lifted her head and glanced at what she tripped over. Althea felt the wand slip from her hand as she gazed at the reluctant mother she had tended to—now dead.

"God," she breathed, horrified.

Althea felt something flicking at her cheek. She slowly turned her head to see a wand pointed between her eyes. Her eyes traveled up the wand, up the arm, up the shoulder to look at the hooded figure before her. She breathed in a shallow breath. _I don't have time to scream_, she thought as the Death Eater retracted his wand. The Death Eater began to teeter, and soon, he violently swayed and fell to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, offering his hand. His face, covered in blood and black soot, cringed at the sight of her shoulder.

With her uninjured arm, she beckoned him to her side. "Hold this," she barked and placed his hands upon her arm. "When I say the charm, pull."

Sirius nodded.

"_Redeo scapulae_," she said. She shuddered at the odd sucking feeling at her left shoulder and winced and yelped at the sudden, sharp pinch. She took Sirius's hands, ignoring her sore shoulder. "There are children—"

"Children?" he questioned, lifting her up.

"The family I treated," she explained quickly and pointed to the lifeless body at her feet. "That's the mum. They never made it—"

Sirius looked at the woman's body at their feet. His face twitched with rage.

"We'll look for them," Sirius said, placing his hands upon her shoulders. "Where were they last?"

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "The surgery," she said, her stomach becoming painfully tight. "How—how did she?"

"No time!" he said, shaking her slightly. "Take me there!"

Althea hurriedly led Sirius toward the Muggle surgery, the two dodging and casting curses as they ran. _How many Death Eaters are there_, she thought as the two sent Stunning Spells at the hooded figure.

"Take off your hood, you coward!" Sirius yelled as he threw the stunned, hoodless Death Eater against the far wall. "Althea," he said and grunted as he cast another curse, "if we don't find them, get yourself out!"

Althea shook her head as she leapt over a fallen chair. "No!"

Sirius growled with frustration.

"Here!" she said, pulling on his jacket. "Surgery's this way!"

The two burst into the corridor—the sound of their footsteps echoed against the spring green walls. Sirius raised her arm to stop her. He held his forefinger to his lips and nodded for her to lead him. The two crept along the corridor, peering into darkened rooms, as they neared the surgery. Althea pointed to the closed door.

"How many?" Sirius whispered.

"Two—James and Katherine, I think," she said as Sirius placed his hand upon the door.

"Right," he whispered and kissed her lips, "after me."

The door slowly creaked open and Sirius thrust his wand into the room—illuminating the Muggle medical items as he entered. Sirius peered around the room—his eyebrows furrowed, but his eyes betrayed his confusion at the Muggle medical items.

"James! Katherine!" Sirius whispered, opening the cupboard underneath examination table.

"Katherine, it's Althea," she said, peering around the side of the examination table. Althea let out a small sob.

There, sprawled in the corner, lay motionless the children's father. His glassy eyes looked back at Althea—the look of terror preserved upon his face. Althea covered her mouth, closing her eyes. She felt Sirius's hand upon her back. _What is the point_, she thought, trembling with rage. _What is the point of all of this_? The sound of a _thump_ and a muffled _bang_ from the metal cupboard broke Althea from her thoughts. She quickly turned toward Sirius. He nodded for her to go forward.

"Katherine?" she whispered, reaching for the metal handle. Althea's hand grasped the cool metal handle and she slowly turned it—the lock disengaging and squeaking as she slowly opened the door. "Katherine…James?"

Althea gasped—her eyes welling with tears. Huddled before her—with their tear-stained faces—were the children. She knelt before them and brought her hands to their trembling faces. She thought of Marie—who held her just as tightly as Katherine held James—to her mother's screams, to the green flash, and to the silence.

"Come," she whispered, reaching for James. "I'll keep you safe, I promise you."

James shook his head and buried his face against Katherine's chest. Katherine held James tighter to her. Althea, her eyes blurred with her tears, reached for James. James yelped and fiercely clung to Katherine. Althea grasped at the boy, but he kicked at her—hitting her right shoulder. Althea fell back onto the tile floor and nodded with thanks as Sirius helped her up.

"My love, we have to go," Sirius whispered, stroking her cheek. "I'll stun them—"

"No," she whispered, placing her hands upon his chest. "No."

Althea furrowed her brow as she looked upon the young pair. She knelt before them and sniffed.

"Here," she said, holding her wand before James's face. "You hold this and curse anyone who tries to hurt us."

"Althea—"

"I've seen him do it, Sirius," she said as the little boy opened his eyes. "He's very good."

The little boy considered the wand and Althea nodded encouragingly. James sniffed and grasped the cedar wand in his small hand. Althea held out her arms for him and the boy wrapped his small arms around her neck. She held the boy's face to her shoulder, shielding him from the sight of his dead father.

"This is my friend, Sirius," she said and nodded toward him.

"Hello," he said, kneeling next to Althea. "I'll get you out of here, straight away," he said, taking Katherine's hand.

Katherine nodded and flung her arms around Sirius. Sirius grunted as he stood.

"Right, Althea?" he said, his eyes glancing toward the door.

"If we continue along this corridor, we can take the passage that connects it to the Muggle hospital," she said, lifting James higher. "Then we seal the passage."

Sirius nodded.

Althea—her arms aching—led Sirius down the winding corridor. _Almost there_, she thought as she heard the rumble of an explosion above them. Althea stroked James' soft hair and murmured to him about his bravery. She gently eased her wand from James's hand and muttered the three charms to open the door. The door swung open to reveal the hospital atrium. Althea sighed as the atrium was deserted. Sirius shut the door behind him and cast a series of spells to seal the door.

"What now?" Sirius asked softly as he held the little girl.

Althea frowned. She knew nothing about them—except the father was a banker. She could take the children to Northfield, but she knew the imposing house would scare them. Her cottage and Sirius's flat were options, but not very child friendly. _Broomsticks, potions, those ghastly Wizard magazines_, she thought and gently bit her bottom lip.

"Godric's Hollow."

* * *

Lily offered Althea a cup of tea. "Are you sure you don't want anything stronger than tea?" she asked, sitting upon the sofa.

Althea looked upon James and Katherine. Freshly bathed and in new clothes that Sirius bought them, the children sat before the television, watching a variety program. James was curled up against Snuffles and Katherine scratched the top of Snuffles's head.

Althea shook her head. "I'll have some of my family's rum later," she said and took a sip from her cup. "His Animagus form is just so bloody convenient, isn't it?"

Lily smiled. "It suits him."

"Indeed," she said, knowing that Snuffles had fallen asleep. "Thank you."

Lily placed her hand upon Althea's hand. "Without question," she said and tenderly pressed Althea's hand. "Dumbledore has found their family."

"Good," she sighed, looking to her cup. "Good."

"You weren't thinking—"

"No," she said quickly, looking at the little boy asleep in Quidditch pajamas. "No."


	43. The Cottage, Christmas Day 1980

**The Cottage, Christmas Day 1980**

Althea heavily blinked; her eyes attempted to adjust to the bright morning sun. She smiled as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. _What a marvelous day_, she thought, and sighed happily, _Christmas_. Yawning, she allowed her arm to fall, and with a loud _thump_, her forearm slammed into a man's chest.

"Ow," Sirius groaned.

Althea gasped and turned onto her side. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered, placing her hand on his cheek. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm all right," he replied, rubbing his chest. Sirius turned his head toward her and laughed quietly. "You forgot again, didn't you?"

Althea smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she said and kissed his unshaven cheek. "Happy Christmas."

Sirius closed one eye as he thought. "Oh, it is," he agreed and smiled sleepily. "Happy Christmas," he added and kissed her lips.

Althea pulled away and looked at him thoughtfully. "I feel awful hitting you again," she said, stroking a lock of hair behind his ear. "I'm still adjusting to you sleeping in my bed. I didn't hear you return last night."

Sirius turned onto his side and wrapped his arm around Althea's waist. "I promise I'll find a flat soon," he assured, allowing his hand to slide underneath the hem of her nightgown. "I reckoned that you didn't want me to wake you," he explained, his fingers leisurely gliding up and down her side—Althea caught her breath. "You were sleeping so peacefully and you haven't had proper sleep in days."

"Neither have you," she replied, her index finger gently poking his chest.

"Don't worry about me," he replied and winked, taking her hand in his.

"How can I not?" she remarked as Sirius kissed her fingers. "Three nights in a row out on patrol? What time did you return?"

Sirius screwed his eyes up in thought, obviously searching for the appropriate answer.

"What time?"

"Six," he sighed and kissed the inside of her wrist.

Althea quickly pulled her hand away, which caused Sirius to frown. "You should've slept in the spare room. I wouldn't have bothered you, then."

"I don't _like_ the spare room," he answered as Althea rolled onto her back. "Anyway, it's not safe—"

"To sleep in the spare room?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

Sirius, smirking, nodded.

Althea giggled deeply as she looked toward her ceiling. "And that mistletoe, suspended from the ceiling," she began, and nodded toward the neatly tied bouquet, "is to protect against a Death Eater attack?"

"Constant vigilance," he replied and yawned.

Althea frowned. "I should leave you to sleep."

"No," he yawned. "No, stay here."

"Then go to the spare room—"

"I'll sleep right here," he murmured, resting his head on her shoulder.

"And have you snore into my ear?" she whispered, stroking the back of his head. "I think not."

"I don't snore," he replied, holding her tighter. "I'm sorry I couldn't spend Christmas Eve with you—"

"Don't worry about it—"

"No," he began, gently shaking his head, "you planned this lovely dinner…and I had to ruin it."

"James wasn't about to patrol on Christmas Eve," she replied, leaning the side of her face against the top of his head. "I overheard you both when I was in the kitchen."

"You're not angry, then?" he asked, lifting his head from her shoulder.

"I'm disappointed," she answered and Sirius frowned. "How could I not be? I wanted to spend the night with you," she explained quietly, fighting a frown. "I barely see you anymore."

"I barely see you," he replied, rolling the satin strap of her nightgown between his thumb and forefinger. "Always at St. Mungo's."

"Healers are disappearing and dying," she replied sadly, purposefully looking away. "I was called back."

"You were almost one of them," he remarked solemnly and Althea quickly turned her head to look at him. "You and that Caretaker barely escaped that Healer under the Imperius Curse."

"How did you know?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "I never told you."

"I know you never told me," he agreed as she let the strap of her nightgown fall from her shoulder. "You told James and James told me."

"I told him _not_ to tell you," she replied, frowning. "I should've known he couldn't keep quiet."

"He's my best mate, love," he teased and Althea removed Sirius's hand from her other nightgown strap. "We keep nothing secret."

"Unfortunately," she muttered and wrinkled her nose. "You're not on patrol tonight, are you?"

"No," he answered and kissed the tip of her nose. "You won't have to spend another night alone."

Althea smiled a small, impish smile. "I didn't spend last night alone," she said as Sirius's face registered shock and confusion. "I spent it with Gran at the _Christmas party_," she continued, ending in a lofty voice.

"Oh, the _Christmas party_," he replied, his expression softening as he mimicked that same lofty voice. "How was the _Christmas party_? Was it the highlight of the season?" he asked with feigned eagerness. "You didn't create a scandal, did you?"

"Only when I climbed atop a table and declared my undying, unyielding love for you," she replied and winked. "You can ask Peter."

Sirius looked at her with a small amount of humorous surprise. "Peter?"

"Yeah," she breathed, grinning. "He escorted me."

"How'd you persuade him to attend _that_?" he asked and shivered. "An evening with Gran."

Althea stretched out her legs and sighed. "I told him that there would be loads of food and drunk Muggle girls."

Sirius chuckled as he rolled onto his back. "The only ways to Peter's heart," he remarked, rubbing the side of his face, "food and girls."

"He left with one," she replied plainly and Sirius lowered his hand. "A very pretty one, too," she continued, rolling onto her side and resting her cheek against his chest. "Unfortunately, after he left, I had John Harrington following me round the entire night."

Sirius made a guttural noise of disgust. "Did you hex him?"

"No," she sighed, "but I should've. At one point, he stuffed mistletoe down his trousers and winked at me."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "Such a bloody wanker," he laughed, holding her tightly.

Althea looked up toward Sirius's smiling face. "Who suspended a few twigs above my bed?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius looked toward the mistletoe and frowned with mock thoughtfulness. "Gran probably," he replied and nodded resolutely. "That woman will stop at nothing to bring us together."

"Yes, she can't stand us apart," she quipped and winked. Althea heard the sound of the doorbell and frowned. "Who could that be?" she wondered aloud as she sat up.

"Ignore them," Sirius murmured and kissed her shoulder as she heard the doorbell again.

"How can I?" she replied as she stood from her bed. "Stay here."

"Stay here?"

"Yes," she replied anxiously, grabbing her dressing gown. "It could be Gran."

"Well, then," Sirius said as Althea walked toward her bedroom door. "I better remove me pyjamas and greet her, naked. It would surely make her Christmas morning."

Althea fiercely fought as smile. "It would ruin mine," she replied as she slipped her arm into her dressing gown. "Stay here."

Althea slipped the rest of her dressing gown on as she made her way through her cottage to the front door. _Bloody hell, what is she doing here_, she thought as she saw the figure of Gran through the peephole. Althea reluctantly opened the front door and forced a smile.

"Good morning, Gran," she said as she held her dressing gown closed. "Happy Christmas."

Gran eyed Althea with visible annoyance. "Why aren't you dressed?" she asked, refusing to enter the cottage.

"Why am I what?" she asked defensively, pulling her dressing gown to her chin.

"_Dressed_, Althea Rosemary," Gran explained, thrusting her hand toward Althea. "We have Mass in one hour," she added, handing Althea the rolled _Daily Prophet_.

"Damn," Althea muttered, frowning. She had forgotten she had promised to attend Christmas Mass with Gran. "Right," she said hollowly, running her fingers through her messy black hair, "just—just go…. I'll be there, I promise."

Gran appraised Althea and sighed disappointedly. "I will sit in my usual place, and I expect you to sit with me," she stated and Althea fought very much not to roll her eyes.

"Yes, Gran."

"Please be prompt as well," she added and Althea gave in.

"Of course, Gran."

"I mean it," she warned, narrowing her eyes at Althea. "The embarrassment I felt when you arrived late at Easter—"

"I won't, Gran."

"Well, then," she said, taking one last look around the cottage and then at Althea.

_Sirius, don't you dare come out_, Althea thought as she smiled weakly at Gran.

"I must leave," she said and gave Althea brisk kiss on the cheek. "I expect you there, Althea Rosemary.

"Right," she replied, her hand easing the door closed. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Althea sighed as she shut the door. _One day_, she thought, resting her forehead against the door, _one bloody day without 'Althea Rosemary.' One day without a damn lecture_. Althea concluded that Gran viewed Althea's life as one enormous lecture, and Althea, as a willing note-taker.

"Happy Christmas, Gran," she whispered and sniffed loudly as she unrolled the _Daily Prophet_.

The youthful picture of the deceased Defense Against the Dark Arts professor smiled up at her. _Still no word on what happened_, she thought, frowning as she remembered Sirius and James speaking lowly about the grisly discovery of Professor Lawless at the Winter Fête.

"Are you all right?"

Althea shook her head and she turned to look at Sirius. "Of course, not," she replied and tossed the _Daily Prophet_ upon the sofa. "It's Gran."

Sirius frowned as he walked toward her. "What did she want now?" he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Other than to ruin our fun."

Althea inhaled a deep breath and sighed, massaging her upper arms. "Mass," she replied and wrinkled her nose. "I'd forgotten…_but_," she continued and Sirius pinched her nose, "you will have the perfect opportunity to sleep."

Sirius made a face. "Oh, it's no fun without you there—"

"To hit you in the face," she finished and winked.

"Precisely," he murmured, leaning closer.

Althea placed her palm against his mouth, at which, Sirius sighed. "I can't—not now, anyway," she lamented, removing her hand from his mouth. Sirius frowned and so did Althea. "Bloody hell," she sighed, rubbing her forehead, "Mass."

"That woman goes _every_ bloody day," Sirius remarked, running his fingers through his hair. "What the bloody hell is she atoning for?"

Althea shrugged. "I reckon she enjoys it."

"She enjoys making you miserable," he said, his fingertips gliding up and down her arms.

Althea nodded.

"But it won't be that awful," he continued with a small smile. "Not today."

"Yes, it will," she replied glumly, looking at the floor.

"No," he replied, lifting her chin, "just think that I'll be waiting for you here—"

"You'll be sleeping—"

"—and we'll have Christmas with Lily and James," he finished, grinning. "Harry's first Christmas."

_I have been looking forward to that_, she thought, smiling. _Lily was so excited when she owled me last…and so was Sirius. I reckon he bought him another gift while on patrol last night_.

"You bought him another gift, didn't you?" she asked, playfully narrowing her eyes at him.

Sirius inhaled a deep breath and turned his head from side to side. "I might've."

Althea shook her head.

"Don't worry," he began with a small smirk, "I won't get pissed and decide to ride the toy broom…. I'll save that for his first birthday."

* * *

Althea frowned slightly as she entered the vestibule. After smoothing out her skirt and coat, she looked to her watch—she had time to spare. Inhaling a deep breath, she stepped forward and winced as the church floor creaked underneath her foot. _Why must this bloody floor announce my arrival_, she asked herself as she walked the aisle and refused to make contact with any of the eyes staring at the new parishioner that had entered. _And why must Gran sit so close to the altar_? Gran, sitting very erect, sat three pews off the center aisle from the altar. Althea despised the spot and wished she could be like the others that sat in the middle, or if daring, sat in the back of the church. _She did this on purpose_, she thought as she rolled her eyes at Gran's choice of hat. _Sitting that close and wearing that awful hat_.

After almost forgetting to genuflect, Althea entered the pew and knelt. After saying a quick prayer, imploring God to give her the strength to withstand Gran, she sat and smiled at Gran. Gran, surprisingly, smiled and patted Althea's hand.

"On time, and with twenty minutes to spare," Gran said quietly and gave Althea an approving look.

Althea, bemused, looked at Gran. "Are you all right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, I am all right," she replied and looked toward the altar. "Isn't the church lovely? We donated the evergreen this year."

Althea's eyes scanned the altar to see boughs of evergreen adorning the altar, the pulpit, and the candelabras. _It's that ridiculous hat_, she thought as Gran smiled when the organ started to play and filled the church with Christmas music. _That Albert fellow gave it to her, told her she looked lovely in it, and she's worn it every bloody Christmas ever since…. At least she's not giggling…the memory of Gran giggling as that Albert placed that hat on her head will stay with me forever. 'Oh, Albert'—oh, please_. Gran nodded as Lady Applewood joined them. _I shouldn't complain_, she thought as Lady Applewood remarked how she loved Gran's hat. _She isn't lecturing me_.

"Happy Christmas, Althea," Lady Applewood whispered, smiling.

"Happy Christmas."

"You look lovely as always," Lady Applewood replied and politely nudged Gran. "Doesn't she always look lovely, Agnes?"

Gran nodded slightly. "Yes, she's a very beautiful young woman," she answered and Althea waited for the "but"; however, it never came.

"Thank you," Althea replied, smiling slightly. "Did Sophie give you that scarf? It's beautiful."

Lady Applewood looked to her scarf and stroked the beading. "Why, yes, she did," she replied, but quickly frowned. "What is that noise?"

Althea's eyes widened as she heard the drone of a motorbike as it seemed to circle the church. Was he that foolish? Her stomach leapt at the possibility that it could be Sirius. _I told him to stay home and sleep_, she thought as she looked out of the corner of her eye at Gran. Gran knew that sound as well. She sat rigid, her lips thinning, and she seemed to be half-listening to Lady Applewood's questions of the motorbike's ownership.

A gasp and murmurs alerted Althea that the owner of the motorbike had entered:

"A motorbike to Mass?"

"I think it's brilliant."

"You would."

"What is he wearing?"

"Is that a leather jacket?"

"Heavens, he's wearing boots."

Althea sat up in her seat as the parishioners continued to chatter. Slowly, she began to turn her head, but Gran grabbed her forearm.

"Do _not_ turn to look, Althea Rosemary," Gran warned.

Althea nodded—her heart beating excitedly as she heard the distinct footsteps, the distinct footsteps she knew to be Sirius's as he walked up the center aisle. Her breathing became shallow and she bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling as his footsteps approached. The footsteps stopped at the pew behind her and Lady Applewood gasped.

Althea looked ahead as she heard Sirius kneel behind her. She felt a rush of excitement as he swept the hair from the side of her face, exposing her cheek. Breathing deeply, she could smell the wind, his soap, and motor oil as he leaned exceptionally close.

"Look at you," he whispered, his moist breath warming her ear—Althea closed her eyes and smiled, "trying so hard to look holy."

Opening her eyes, she looked to Gran, who had turned to look at Sirius. Not taking his eyes off Gran, Sirius—with a smirk—made the sign of the cross and sat in his seat.

"Happy Christmas," he said, nodding to Gran and folding his arms.

Gran, silent, looked to Althea…as did Lady Applewood. Althea smiled sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders. _Oh, Sirius, you're truly brilliant_, she thought as she stood for the opening hymn. Soon, Sirius's voice—clear, pleasant, and overpowering all others—filled her ears. Gran—who normally took great pride in her singing voice—refused to sing. As the song entered the third verse, Althea carefully turned to look at Sirius, who looked up from his songbook and winked. Unable to disguise a smile, she turned to face the altar, but before she did, her eyes met Gran. Gran's eyes exhibited a look of disappointment and betrayal. Althea's smile faded.

However, Gran's disapproval could not dampen Althea's spirits for long. At every opportunity, Sirius made his presence known. She could feel him watching her as Father Morris read the Gospel, and during the homily, she could not concentrate for she could only think about the few hours before James and Lily's Christmas lunch and the possibilities the hours held. At the sign of peace, Althea held her breath as Sirius offered his hand to Gran…and Gran reluctantly took it.

_For once, I enjoyed Mass_, she thought as she exited through the large, carved oak doors.

"Do not make a fool of yourself, Althea Rosemary," Gran warned.

Althea blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. She tightened her coat about her to stave off the frigid air. At the bottom of the steps and at the start of the gravel road was Sirius, leaning against his gleaming motorbike; his arms folded, his demeanor was casual and he eyed everyone who passed with a distinct air of boredom. Althea's eyes met his at the first step, and they continued to share their gaze as Althea descended the stone steps—Sirius's smile slowly developing with each step taken.

"Good morning, Mr. Black," Althea said pleasantly, eyeing Sirius as she passed. "Happy Christmas."

"Good morning…" Sirius smirked as he thought how he should address her, "Althea. Happy Christmas."

Althea continued to smirk as she entered the car. Gran remained unnaturally silent and Althea took the opportunity to observe the countryside out her window. The world looked so different from a car window. It was a more intimate form of travel with the earth than Apparition, a broom, or a Portkey.

"You still speak with that boy?"

Althea sighed as Gran broke her scenic reverie. "He is the best friend of Lily's husband and godson to their child," she explained, pressing her index finger against the window. "We have to interact…whether I like it or not."

"You seemed to like it very much."

Althea's index finger traced imaginary shapes against the glass. "I'd rather be pleasant than hexed," she replied and secretly smiled. "He is, after all, from _that_ family."

"At least you didn't make an absolute fool of yourself and embarrass us all by hopping on the back of that awful motorbike," Gran replied. "As he seemed keen for you to do so."

"I wish I had," Althea muttered, allowing her hand to drop to her side.

"What?"

Althea turned her face toward Gran, and smiling, said, "Happy Christmas, Gran."

Gran smiled as well. "Happy Christmas."

* * *

Althea, as she ascended the dimly lit staircase, could hear Dorcas's booming voice retell her daring escape from out her latest conquest's bedroom window. She paused for a moment and shook her head, quietly laughing to herself. _It's much simpler if one is an Animagus_, she thought and winced as the step groaned underneath her foot. _What am I thinking? A creaky stair won't wake Harry if Dorcas can't_. One would've charmed the staircase to quiet, but caring for little Harry and battling Death Eaters made the creaky stair a low priority. Althea thought of mending the stair, but a creaky stair could give the Potters the warning they needed for an escape. Althea swallowed. _I'll make them all noisy_.

Harry's bedroom was the last door when one entered the hallway. It was a modest room—the sort of nursery Althea expected a child to have. Comforting and inviting, not the dreary coldness her father and her uncle experienced at Northfield. Althea smiled at Sirius's gentle voice singing Christmas carols to Harry. She stood in the doorway and sipped her mulled cider. Did her mother and father do the same? She imagined it so. Sirius, holding Harry, hadn't noticed and continued to entertain the infant with glowing bubbles of gold and silver. Althea squinted, imagining the Sirius that held the baby with a shock of thick black hair was in the cottage they currently shared. _Is that what it would look like_, she wondered as Sirius sighed contentedly. _Would we be as happy_? Althea blinked. After the war…but would he be alive? Would she? Was it selfish?

"He's great with Harry," Lily whispered into Althea's ear.

Althea nodded and took another sip.

"I never would've thought—"

Althea shrugged as Sirius created snow and Harry squealed with delight. Lily laughed, which alerted Sirius to his visitors. Althea felt the apples of her cheeks warm.

"Do you ever—"

"No," Althea replied through her smile.

"Ah, our fun is over!" Sirius said in a gentle tone he only spoke to Harry, which Althea was still becoming accustomed to.

"No," Lily said, smiling, "go on."

Sirius grinned as he nodded.

Lily inhaled and whispered to Althea, "Would you wait until after the war?"

Althea was quiet.

"Would you wait?"

Althea's grip tightened upon her mug. "I just—I'm a Healer and Sirius—"

Lily leaned exceptionally close. "You might not have that chance."


	44. Hogwarts, May 1994

**Hogwarts, May 1994**

A grinning James Potter held the Quidditch Cup underneath his arm as Sirius slapped him on the upper back, and pulled a smiling, bushy-haired Althea closer to him. _That was a fantastic game_, Althea thought, stroking the side of the photograph she nicked from the Trophy Room. James hoisted the Quidditch Cup over his head and Sirius stole a quick kiss from Althea.

Sighing, she held the photograph closer to her face. "You'd be proud of him, James. Just like you," she said and placed the photograph in her top desk drawer.

Leaning back in her chair, she smiled as she glanced at the bag of fifty Galleons that rested atop the corner of her desk. Those were fifty Galleons Severus Snape no longer had. Another person might have felt slight pangs of guilt taking such a large sum of money from a poor schoolteacher, but the only pangs Althea felt were those of hunger. She delighted that his arrogance had made such a solid bet. Draco Malfoy was as capable as Regulus Black upon a broom—a load of gold from mummy and daddy and a greedy Housemaster. _Serves him right_, she thought, sitting upright. _Betting against Gryffindor—he's always been a stupid git_. Reluctantly shifting her attention away from the bag of Galleons, she picked up a stack of essays on Muggle sport and frowned. _It's too beautiful outside to spend the entire day marking essays_, she thought, throwing the stack back on her desk. _I'll go for a walk, but before I do, I think I'll sit here and open the envelope Gran sent me—I could find this highly amusing today_.

Althea opened the large, manila envelope and pulled out its contents. "Bloody hell," she muttered, as she stared at the unsigned divorce papers. "Gran, what is the point?" she sighed, tossing the divorce papers onto her desk.

The divorce papers slid across and fell off her desk and, by the sound they made as they hit the floor, she knew they scattered. _Muggle divorce papers_, she thought, resting her chin against her folded arms on her desk. _Our marriage never existed—at least legally in the Ministry's eyes. We were living a farce Gran—that paper means nothing. We never wanted to marry, anyway_.

"Then why is it so bloody difficult to sign them?" she murmured and sighed.

_I know why I didn't sign them; it would mean moving on_, she answered, leaning back in her chair. Why wouldn't she want to move on with her life? They were not going to be together again, and she was not doing it out of some profound loyalty—he had broken that a long time ago. Althea rested her legs on top of her desk and gazed out of the window as a sparrow landed on the widow ledge. _I know I made a mistake—I know that now. He lied to me the entire time we were together. At Harry's birth, he was already a spy for Voldemort_, she thought as she observed another sparrow join its friend on the window ledge. _He had to have been—no one laughs after killing thirteen people with a single curse_.

"It must be nice to be a sparrow," she said, watching the sparrows hop along the window ledge. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

What could she be afraid of? _I'm afraid of ending up alone_, she thought as one of the sparrows flew away. _Alone_, she mused and laughed bitterly. _What have I been for these past twelve—going on thirteen years? I've been alone_. Sirius was her security. Who would want an infertile, emotional wreck of a witch as a lover? Sirius would—he would not know different—he was imprisoned in Azkaban. That marriage certificate, which meant nothing in her world, gave her that false sense of security that she was never _truly_ alone. She had someone—Sirius—but he was away. Gran was right—she never was in her right mind when it came to Sirius.

"I feel so pathetic," she whispered as the last of the sparrows flew away.

Standing, she walked to the other side of her desk and picked up the divorce papers. _All I have to do is sign this paper and I'll be free_, she thought, still crouching on the floor. Her knees popping as she stood, she placed the divorce papers on her desk, and sat in her chair. She would sign them—she had to sign them. Dipping her quill in ink, she scanned the document, which detailed abandonment and false searches to Southeast Asia to locate him, to where she should sign. Finding the line to sign her name, she paused to determine that her quill had enough ink. _Why am I stalling_, she thought angrily, letting the quill tip touch the paper. _It's not like I'm abandoning him. In some abnormal way, I'll always love him—he was the father of Prudence_. The thought of Prudence caused the blood vessels in her arms to constrict, sending sharp pains up into her shoulders. Placing the quill on top of the paper, she rubbed her shoulders. Prudence—Sirius took Prudence away from her. Sirius sent those Death Eaters after her. _Remus is right, I do treat his memory too well_, she thought, picking up her quill. In a grand flourish signed her name.

"Finally," she sighed, holding up the signed divorce papers before her.

Althea closed her eyes, enjoying the afternoon sunlight upon her face. In a few weeks, she would return to her Bermuda home. _No more Hogwarts_, she thought, imagining herself upon her beach—the saltwater lapping against her toes. _No more Sirius_.

* * *

_Unexpectedly, the sound of a young girl shrieking in pain caused Althea to jolt upright. Immediately she stood, pulled her wand from her robes, and hurried toward the door as the girl continued to scream. Althea gasped as she entered the corridor to find a Death Eater advancing on Prudence, who lay on the stone floor. Only this was not a Death Eater—it did not have a wand. _A boggart that came from that broom cupboard, _she thought, horrified as Prudence huddled on the floor. _

_"_RIDDIKULUS_!" she roared, pointing her wand at the boggart. _

_The boggart left Prudence's side and turned its attention toward Althea. _

_"_RIDDIKULUS_!" she shouted again, but the boggart laughed—a bark-like laugh. _

_Althea gasped and the boggart continued to laugh—removing its hood. "Like that silly incantation could work on me," Sirius replied, smiling wickedly. _

_His skeleton-like features repulsed Althea. _

_"Oh, do I repulse you?" he asked, walking toward her. _

_"_Riddikulus_!" she replied firmly, pointing her wand at the boggart. _

_Sirius walked toward her as she shouted _Riddikulus_ again. "Come on, lower your wand," he replied, walking closer. _

_Althea took a step toward Prudence—shielding her from Sirius. _

_"Come on, be a good girl and lower your wand," he said, reaching out to lower her wand._

_Althea refused to yield. "_Riddikulus_, damn it!" _

_"I'm not a bloody boggart." _

_Althea caught her breath. "No," she murmured as she looked into Sirius's dead eyes. _

_"I knew it was you," he whispered, stepping forward. "Where else would you live in Hogwarts? I had to visit it, too—God, I ache for you." _

_Althea stepped back. _

_Sirius looked over her shoulder and frowned. "Prudence?" he said, eyes watering with tears. "Our—our daughter? As beautiful as her mother—"_

_"Don't—"_

_"Oh, Althea! Please forgive me for what I did! I did it for you—for the baby. I couldn't let you die!" he said ruefully, and buried his face in his hands. _

_Althea, horrified, looked upon the sobbing Sirius. _I knew_, she thought, swallowing the bile that rose into her throat. _

_Sirius shook, slowly removing his hands from his face—laughing. "Did you actually believe I'd do that for you?" he remarked, taking his wand from his belt. "Get over yourself, Althea!" he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. "You were in the way and Lily changed James. I had to get rid of all of you."_

_Althea screamed and Sirius deftly blocked her curse. _

_"What? Don't like to hear the truth?" he asked, his thin face forming a grotesque smile. "You know, sometimes people will believe the biggest lie," he mused and sighed. "We were losing—I had to think of myself. I knew you were too weak to join me and I knew James was, too."_

_"You bastard!" she snarled and Sirius laughingly blocked her curse again. _

_Sirius's laughter echoed throughout the corridor. "Oh, you can't get rid of me so easily," he hissed, walking closer to her. Althea's wand rested against his chest. "You are obsessed with me—aren't you? You've always had a strong feeling for me—love, hate, but never indifference," he said knowingly, and paused. "I wonder…you would…_definitely_ in your office…maybe even this corridor…."_

_"Son of a bitch—"_

_"Oh, but we were always a bit loud, so not with Prudence here," he continued, furrowing his eyebrows. "Prudence—you know, if you truly cared for your daughter, you'd forget about me and rush to her side." _

_"Don't—" _

_Sirius laughed. "You care more about your ego," he remarked, smirking. He quickly pivoted and knelt at Prudence's side. _

_"Get away from her!" Althea shouted frantically, pointing her wand at Sirius. "Get away from her, you bastard!" _

_Sirius waved his hand at Althea dismissively. "She doesn't know that her mummy and daddy are murderers, does she?" he asked, taking his hand to Prudence's face. "Oh, your daddy loves you very much," he whispered malevolently, stroking Prudence's cheek. _

_Enraged, Althea rushed into Sirius knocking him backward. Sirius rolled over on top of her and laughed. _

_"Isn't the truth liberating?" _

_"I'll kill you!" she growled and spat in his face. _

_Sirius laughed. "You can't kill me," he replied, pinning her down. "Didn't you secretly wish that I would escape so you could be with me?" _

_"Never!" she growled, struggling against him. _

_"Could you imagine that reunion? Could you imagine the sex—two murdering, narcissistic sociopaths—"_

_"I'll kill you!" _

_"An empty threat," he laughed, as Althea's hand broke free. "You can't kill someone you feel pity for—isn't that what you feel for me?" _

_Althea transfigured a pencil in her robe pocket into a penknife. _

_Sirius bent forward and nuzzled her neck. He loudly inhaled. "God, it's been twelve years," he whispered as she reached into her pocket to retrieve the penknife. "No more struggling—that's my girl—"_

_Sirius's eyes widened as Althea jabbed the blade of the penknife into his abdomen. Wrapping her arm around his back, she pulled him toward her—thrusting the blade deeper into his abdomen. Althea rolled him onto his back and pulled the blade from his stomach. She thrust it once more and Sirius groaned. _

_"You did it," he breathed with disbelief, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth…._

Althea woke with a start. She hurriedly blinked her eyes as she surveyed her sunny office. The sound of Alexander Star's seductive voice filled her office as he teased 'Davina':

_Smile and laugh, you sweet, sad creature._

_So full of love, and yet, no one to reach you._

_Bloom, bloom, althea._

_Oh, Davina, your eyes of ocean's blue—_

Althea pointed her wand at the phonograph and Alexander Star's voice quieted. _You weren't that bloody good_, she thought, slowly turning her chair from side to side. She smirked as she remembered the Wizarding rock god beneath her. _I reckon when they capture Sirius, I could tell him that bit of information…let him remember that for the next twelve years_.

Suddenly, Althea heard a frightened girl's screams. _Oh God_, she thought, leaping from her chair. Her wand drawn, Althea burst forth from her office into the corridor. Across from the broom closet, stood Prudence—pale, her eyes widened in fright—as the hooded figure in Azkaban robes rushed toward her.

"No!" Althea said, thrusting her wand toward the figure as Prudence fainted.

The figure stopped, turned, and removed its hood. Standing before her was Sirius Black as his twenty-one-year-old self. Althea gasped as the handsome Sirius's lips curved into an arrogant smile.

"I've shagged better," she said, pointing her wand at the confused Sirius. "_Riddikulus_!"

With a puff of smoke, the boggart was gone. Sighing loudly, she paused for a moment, staring at the empty space before her. _When did I start to fear Sirius_, she thought, smoothing the hair from her face. _Bloody hell_. Prudence lay still upon the floor. Althea rushed forward and knelt at her side. Her stomach tightened as she closely observed her daughter for the first time since she was a baby. Her shaking hand timidly stretched forward, and carefully stroked Prudence's long black curls away from her face. _She's so soft_, she thought, raising her other hand to her own face. _Her hair, her skin, she feels just like me_, she continued, removing her hand from her own face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered painfully—her fingertips refusing to let go of Prudence's face.

"Althea, is she all right?"

Althea's head jerked upward and she quickly retracted her hand. "Oh, Remus—I didn't hear you," she began, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands. "She'll be fine. I—I should take her to my office," she finished, furrowing her eyebrows.

Remus placed his hand on Althea's shoulder. "I'll carry her."

"No, no," she replied, shaking her head. "I—I can do this myself."

"Althea, please—"

"Let me hold her," she said, her forefinger tracing the side of Prudence's face.

Carefully, she scooped up Prudence into her arms, with Remus steadying her as she did so. _You've grown up so much since the last time I held you_, she thought as she slowly walked toward her office door. Remus held the door open for her as she entered her office. Refusing to acknowledge her aching arms, she carried Prudence over to her couch, and lovingly placed a blanket over her—taking care to tuck the soft blanket underneath her arms.

"What happened?" Remus asked, bringing over a chair for Althea.

"A boggart," she whispered, continuing to look at Prudence. "Her greatest fear is her father."

"Oh God," he murmured, slumping into the chair next to her. He covered his face with his trembling hand.

Althea nodded. "I heard her scream and found her on the ground," she began, taking Prudence's hand in hers. "She's so beautiful," she continued, bringing Prudence's hand to her cheek. "What have I done?"

"You've done nothing," he said, uncovering his face.

Althea closed her eyes. "You're right, I've done nothing to protect her—"

"Nonsense," he whispered heatedly. "It is Sirius's fault, and his, alone!"

Althea opened her eyes and kissed Prudence's hand—her lips touched a smooth ring. She frowned slightly as she looked upon the gold band a little big for such a small finger. Easing the ring around Prudence's finger, she let out a gasp of amazement, as there upon Prudence's finger, was Althea's ring. _I don't believe this_, she thought, her finger faintly jiggling the gold and amethyst ring. Large tears formed in the corners of Althea's eyes. _You carry me with you_.

"Remus, look—look what's on her hand!"

"I didn't know you gave her that ring," he said, leaning closer to examine the ring.

"I put it in the letter I wrote—along with pictures," she explained, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Althea—fearing she would never be able to tell Prudence the truth—had written a letter for Prudence that detailed the circumstances of Prudence's birth and adoption. She included a copy of the photograph just taken after Prudence's birth. At the last moment before handing Prudence to the Parkers, Althea slipped the ring into the envelope and sealed it, secretly placing the envelope in Prudence's blanket. _I charmed the blanket to always smell of my perfume_, she thought, letting go of her daughter's hand. _Did you keep it, too_?

Althea quickly turned toward Remus. "Do you think she knows?" she asked, the panic rising in her voice. "I mean, if she has the ring—maybe—maybe they gave her the letter, too. Oh God, Remus!" she said excitedly, grabbing his forearms. "She wasn't supposed to get that letter until she was an adult witch—if she ever received it. I thought they'd find it and throw it away."

Remus pried her hands from his forearms. "I don't think she knows," he said softly, resting his hands atop hers. Remus furrowed his eyebrows—frowning. "Althea, did you write that—"

Althea vigorously shook her head. "No, I couldn't. Could you imagine what that would do?" she whispered, returning her gaze to her daughter. "He's not on her birth certificate."

Althea noticed Prudence began to shift, and her heart pounded violently against her chest. Prudence opened her eyes and wildly scanned Althea's office.

"Where—what—what happened?" she asked, sitting up. Prudence's grey eyes widened. "Sirius—"

Althea swallowed a breath as she heard her daughter speak. _We sound almost alike_, she thought, building up enough courage to speak.

"It wasn't Black," she said, tending to Prudence's blanket. "It was a boggart,"

"A boggart?"

Althea nodded. "It shows us what we most fear," she said, leaning forward.

"So, it wasn't?" she asked, forming a tiny crease between her eyebrows.

Althea vigorously shook her head. "Absolutely not."

Prudence let out a little sigh.

"How do you feel?"

Prudence uneasily shifted on the couch. "Okay, I reckon," she muttered, her cheeks transforming to a shade of pale pink. "I'm embarrassed—that's about it."

Althea smiled warmly—praying that the excitement of her first interaction with her daughter would not betray her. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Prudence."

Remus moved closer to Prudence. "No one would expect you to handle a boggart."

Prudence rubbed her forehead, the amethyst catching the sunlight.

Althea smiled. "What a beautiful ring," she said, looking from the ring to Prudence's grey eyes.

_God, it's as if I'm looking into Sirius's eyes_, she thought, taking a nervous breath. Prudence looked at her ring and smiled—her smile showed the same white, perfect teeth that Sirius exposed when he smiled.

"Thanks, my parents gave me this as my present for Hogwarts," she explained, wiggling her finger.

_Parents_. Althea's heart ached inside her chest and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She desperately wanted to grab Prudence and to hold her close to her. She wanted to divulge everything to Prudence—to tell her she was her mother, the circumstances, and that she loved her. But her parents—Prudence did not know. Althea was not her parent—she gave that beautiful young girl away. She forfeited any chance when she handed Prudence to Mrs. Parker. Althea was not her mother, Mrs. Parker was.

Althea released her breath and smiled. "You must love your parents very much."

Prudence nodded.

"And they must love you very much, too."

Prudence smiled and nodded.

"You're so very lucky," she said—her nerves coming undone as Prudence stared at her through those thick black lashes. "I—I'm sure Professor Lupin will help you with boggarts," she added, turning her gaze toward Remus.

"Of course, I'll help. I have some free time this afternoon. Just come by my office," he replied, rubbing his hands together. He looked around the room before he pleasantly smiled at Prudence. "I'm sure there's another boggart lurking about somewhere."

Prudence blushed. "Thank you, Professors. I suppose you'll be taking points away from Gryffindor," she replied quietly, lowering her head. "Or give me detention."

"We're not going to take any points away," Althea replied with an amused smile, "or give you detention. You're safe and that's all that matters. However, I do think you've learned your lesson."

"Yeah, I have," she replied, kicking her heel against the stone floor. "Er—is it all right if I go now?" she asked, placing the blanket to the side.

Althea nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you," she said, standing.

Althea watched Prudence as she walked toward the door. _This isn't fair_, she thought as Prudence paused at the door.

"I'll come to your office later, Professor Lupin," she said, turning the doorknob.

"Until then, Prudence."

Midway through turning the doorknob, Prudence paused. "Professor Morrigan, may I ask you a question?" she asked and bit her bottom lip.

Althea's throat constricted. "Of course, what would you like to ask?"

Prudence looked at her shoes and furrowed her eyebrows. "What is your boggart?" she asked, finally looking at Althea.

"Oh," she replied, somewhat stunned. "I—I see a big, black dog."

Remus deliberately looked at Althea.

Althea saw Prudence mouth _a big, black dog_ with slight bewilderment. "Thank you, Professor. Goodbye," she replied, opening the door.

"Bye," Althea replied, rubbing her upper arms.

Althea longingly watched as Prudence exited her office and shut the door behind her. How she didn't want that exchange to end!

"Are you all right?" he asked, resting his hand on her shoulder.

Althea sighed. "No, but I will be," she said, looking at the door. "I would really like to be alone."

"You know where to find me," he sighed and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"Thanks," she muttered, resting her hand atop of his.

Remus squeezed her shoulder one last time and walked toward the door. Althea half-heartedly waved as he closed her office door. Alone and raw with every emotion, she walked over to her desk. In the third drawer from the top, she produced a silver picture frame and held it tightly in her hands. _No one's here to see me cry anyway_, she thought, _so why hold it in_. Her blurry eyes examined the photograph in her hands. They had just discovered that morning that Althea was pregnant, and went to tell James and Lily. Althea watched as a proud Sirius continued to point to her stomach, to kiss her stomach, and to lift her up into the air—swinging her around. She focused upon his elated expression. How could he have wanted her dead?

Althea grasped the picture frame tighter—her knuckles turning white. "Damn you, Sirius," she began bitterly—her hands shaking from anger. "Everyday I have to live with the fact our daughter calls someone else mummy—that I can't touch her, or hug her, or tell her that I love her. I hope they catch you and may your soulless body rot in Azkaban!" she finished angrily and threw the picture frame across her office.

The glass of the picture frame exploded as it hit the wall, sending large and small shards all over her stone floor. Althea collapsed upon her chair, covering her face with her hands.


	45. The Cottage, October 1981

**The Cottage, October 1981**

_Althea swallowed. The dull, nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach that had been her intimate friend for the last two weeks caused her to wrinkle her nose at Sirius's soap, which seemed to aggravate that unpleasant feeling. Althea gently slid away from him and Sirius raised an eyebrow. _

_"I felt a bit warm," she lied and went to place her hand upon her stomach but thought better of it. _

_"Oh," Sirius murmured and scratched his unshaven jaw. _

_Sirius sniffed as he sat up. Althea fought a sigh, as she knew Sirius would leave for another mission. Instead, he reached under the bed and tossed a small pink box upon the bed—it tumbling and coming to rest against Althea's thigh. She let out a quiet groan. Lily must have said something. _

_Lily gave Althea a knowing look yesterday at Remus's birthday party, and when she vomited in the hedgerows after having not a drop to drink, Sirius paled. _Good God, it might've worked_, she thought as Sirius's nail picked at the edge of the small pink box between them. Althea's eyes focused upon the happy witch displayed on the box of _Madam Poppy's Pregnancy Patch_. Was Althea supposed to be happy? She didn't feel happy. She felt…terrified. She was a Midwife and Healer for God's sake, but she thought it would come…maybe the next day, maybe that afternoon, maybe that evening. _It could still, right? God, you stupid girl, stop deluding yourself_, she thought and growled quietly at the thought of how and where their child might have been conceived. _It was so bloody unromantic.

_Althea laughed nervously. "When'd you get this?" she asked as Sirius opened the box. _

_"At the apothecary yesterday," he replied, pulling out the directions. _

_Althea sat up. "I could have bought this, you know—"_

_"I know, but I had business in Knockturn Alley—oh don't make that face," he said and pinched her nose. _

_Althea frowned. "Your work frightens me," she muttered, lowering her face. The witch seemed too enthusiastic for wartime. _

_Sirius gently coaxed her face toward him. "It frightens you, but you still want to hear about it." _

_"I need to know what you're doing," she responded, "but you don't tell me everything."_

_"If I told you everything, you wouldn't let me out of the cottage."_

_"Well maybe you should," she replied, smiling halfheartedly. "You really bought this? You didn't have Lily—" _

_"No, I didn't have Lily," he said, peering into the box. "Although, she did tell me what to buy." _

_"I could've," she insisted. _

_"But you didn't," he reminded and unfolded the directions. "Now, let's see," he said, righting the directions. "'Remove cover from patch and place on skin of lower abdomen. Wait ten minutes'—ten minutes? It's a bloody patch, what does it have to do? 'The patch will turn blue for a boy and pink for a girl'—isn't that lovely, we'll know straight away. 'In the case of multiples, individual colored circles will appear'—let's not hope for that! 'In the event a pregnancy did not occur, the patch will remain black,'" he read and tossed the directions on the floor. Sirius removed the oval patch from the box and peeled off the backing. _

_"I think I can do this bit myself," she replied, attempting to take the patch from him. _

_Sirius held it high over his head. "No, no, let me do this," he said, putting the patch behind his back as Althea went to grab it. _

_Althea flung herself back upon the bed. "All right," she replied, resting her arms at her sides. "But if you mess this up—"_

_"I'm not going to mess this up," he interrupted, peeling off the rest of the backing. Sirius lifted her nightgown and placed the patch on her lower abdomen. The muscles contracted at the cool jelly. "There we are," he said and patted her abdomen. "Now we wait." _

Now we wait_, she thought as Sirius rested the side of his face against her chest. Althea frowned as she gently massaged the back of Sirius's head. _That damn article from the paper_, she thought, twirling a piece of Sirius's hair. The day before, the _Daily Prophet_ contained an article about a pregnant witch attacked as she left Diagon Alley. _Voldemort's supporters are attacking pregnant witches—now no one is safe_, she thought as Sirius lifted his head. _

_"Are you all right?" he asked, taking her hand. _

_Althea sighed. "I was thinking about that woman yesterday that was attacked," she answered as Sirius kissed each of her fingers. "Are we being selfish?" she asked as he kissed the back of her hand. _

_Sirius placed her hand to the side of his face. "It's too late to be thinking these things now," he replied, kissing the inside of her wrist. "I thought we decided we wanted this." _

_"I do want this, but that attack frightened me," she said, taking her hand away from Sirius. "It might not just be us anymore." _

_"I know, and we'll take every precaution," he said softly and kissed her forehead. _

_Althea sighed. "I just want the best for our baby, that's all," she said, and Sirius smiled. "What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. _

_"We don't even know yet if you're pregnant and you're talking like a mother," he replied and kissed her lips. _

_Althea frowned at Sirius's lightheartedness. _Kissing me and telling me everything will be all right won't help_, she thought—her eyes lingering on the bruise on Sirius's right temple. _Why did I tell him it was okay for him to take on more work for the Order? What will I do when I'm alone with the baby and we're attacked? It will happen—it's just a matter of time_. _

_Althea pushed him away. "Promise me, Sirius," she began, looking into his eyes, "that if this test comes back that I'm pregnant you'll cut back on the work you do."_

_"You know I can't do that," he replied, frowning. _

_"Promise me," she insisted, but Sirius shook his head. "Well, at least try."_

_"I'll try," he sighed, "but let's talk about something else. How about our baby boy?" _

_Althea would force herself to follow his lighthearted lead. "Boy? What makes you so sure it's a boy?" she asked, rustling his hair. _

_Sirius grabbed her hand and began to trace circles in her palm. "It could be a girl, too," he replied, smiling to himself. "Whatever it is, it'll have the best of everything—schools, clothes, toys, parents." _

_"You know," she began, taking her hand from his. "If it's a boy, he might send Dumbledore and McGonagall into early retirement." _

_"And if it's a girl, she won't be able to leave the house until she's thirty."_

_"Who's the overprotective parent now?" she teased and pinched his nose. _

_Sirius grabbed her hand and pretended to bite at her fingers. "Overprotective? I'm not overprotective," he replied, interlocking his fingers with hers. "I don't trust the intentions of adolescent boys." _

_"Not all adolescent boys were like you," she teased, releasing her hand from his. _

_Sirius's head jolted back in shock. "What? I was an innocent—don't laugh—an innocent young man seduced—stop laughing," he replied and covered her mouth with his hand. _

_Althea pried his hand from her mouth. "Your intentions have never been innocent." _

_Sirius smiled. "With you…no," he replied and kissed the tip of her nose. "Is it almost time?" _

_"I thought you were keeping time?" she replied, lifting herself onto her elbows. _

_Sirius swiftly sat up. "I thought you were," he replied quickly, looking from her eyes to her abdomen. "It might be time. Lift up, come on, lift up," he said excitedly, tugging at the fabric. _

_Althea lifted her nightgown and the two simultaneously looked at the results of the patch. She gasped at the results. _

_"Pink—it's pink." _

_She shifted her gaze to Sirius, who continued to stare at the pink patch. _

_"Sirius, are you all right?" she asked, stroking back the strands of hair that fell into his face. _

_"Yeah, yeah, I'm all right," he muttered and rested his hand over the pink patch. _

_"Are you disappointed it's not a boy?" she asked, resting her hand atop his. _

_Sirius shook his head. "No, no, I'm not disappointed," he murmured and brought his gaze from her abdomen to her eyes. "You're really—"_

_Althea nodded her head. _

_"I mean I'm a godfather, but this is different," he said, tenderly stroking her stomach. "This is mine," he explained and kissed her skin. _

_Althea reclined upon the bed, and her smile broadened as Sirius stroked and kissed her abdomen. _A little girl_, she thought, and found herself laughing as his lips tickled her skin. Suddenly he stopped, rested the side of his face against her stomach, and held her tightly—the way he held her concerned her. She could tell he was unsure about something. _

_As she was about to ask him what that something was, he spoke, "I'm someone's father." _

_"Yeah," she whispered, twirling a strand of his hair between her fingers. _

_Sirius lifted his head and crawled toward her. "No, you don't understand," he said, looking into her eyes. "I'm her father," he finished, pointing to his chest. _

_As she looked into his eyes, she knew she did not need to ask—his eyes were anxious and frightened. "You're not your father," she said, stroking the hair away from his face. "And you're definitely not your mother,"_

_"I want to be a better man than him." _

_"You are a better man." _

_Sirius frowned. "Are you sure?" _

_Althea nodded vigorously. "Of course, you are," she said with rising excitement. "You'll be a fantastic father. You're great with Harry." _

_Sirius smiled sadly and rested his forehead against hers. "I hope you're right," he whispered, caressing the sides of her face…._

A sharp kick in her back by the baby interrupted Althea from her memory. Lurching forward, she rubbed her back and sighed. _Of course, I'm right_, she thought, as large raindrops fell against the window and obscured the grey landscape. _Just maybe if he were home, I'd be able to prove it…. I suppose I'll have to have a Death Eater with his wand pointed at my throat before he realizes it's not just Sirius anymore…. Damn it! Where is he? Never mind me anymore. Just keep me safe and out of the way…. I wonder what gift he'll bring me this time; another 'Sorry I knocked you up, it was a mistake, I'm stupid to think I could do this myself, but I'm too stubborn to leave. Here's another toy for the baby.' She has enough toys Sirius; what she needs is you_.

After the explosion at Sirius's flat in December, Althea offered him a place to stay at her cottage. He agreed, and it was understood that along with his Order duties, he would search out another flat. It was an advantageous arrangement. Sirius had a place to stay (Lily refused, she admitted that Harry was enough of a handful), and it would mean extra protection for her, and living as a single witch in a time of violence and uncertainty, the extra protection was needed. If it offered extra protection, she did not know—Sirius often spent days or weeks away from the cottage. His absence was unnerving, and in late January, after an enormous battle with Death Eaters, Sirius had not returned to the cottage. His whereabouts were unknown, but after two days of no word, he returned—bruised, blooded, and his spirit seemingly broken. Distraught, she healed his wounds, and in passing as she healed them, Sirius mentioned the word 'baby.' Althea would have done anything for him—no matter how reckless or sudden—and she did…she conceived their daughter.

Althea continued to look anxiously out the front window, waiting for the first glimpse of a motorbike. Sirius had not been home in two days and his whereabouts were unknown. Usually, if he had to spend the night away, he sent word to let her know he was all right; however, she had received nothing and it was an hour until nightfall. Earlier that morning, she had sent a note to Lily, but it was returned—unopened and tied exactly how Althea tied it to Gabriel's leg. _Two days he's gone and Lily hasn t written me or read my note_, she thought, waddling over to the sofa. With great effort, she gingerly lowered her large, pregnant body onto the soft sofa. _Something is wrong_, she thought, groaning as her body sank into the sofa. _He's either left me, or he's dead_.

Gran placed the magazine she was reading at her side. "So, he's not back yet," she remarked, folding her arms as she sat across from Althea.

"No, he isn't," she mumbled, rubbing her very pregnant stomach.

"No message, either?" she added, looking over the rims of her glasses at Althea.

"No, Gran," she sighed, her gaze rising above Gran's grey hair out the window.

"I knew it," she muttered. "You can't trust his lot. He's probably run off with some girl and left you to care for his baby."

Althea frowned at her comment and directed her gaze toward her. _She'll never accept him_, she thought, _not even when I'm carrying her great-granddaughter. Gran still believes Sirius will turn against us and join Voldemort—what more does he have to do to prove he's not a Dark wizard_?

"Gran, don't be ridiculous," she replied, dismissively waving her hand. "He has his work."

"Oh, his _work_," she replied and furrowed her eyebrows. "Yes, this _work_. This _work_ that almost got him _killed_—that has him come back to your cottage bruised and bloodied—"

"Gran, please!" she admonished, rubbing her temples. "I don't need you telling me what I already know."

"Well, then," she huffed, sitting up straighter. "If you know it, why don't you tell him _to stay home_?"

"Gran, I've told him to cut his work, but he can't—"

"Or _won't_," she interrupted. "What could be more important than a man's wife and child? Don't interrupt me, Althea Rosemary. He should be here, with you, and not out with his friends chasing down a Dark wizard."

"I don't believe you said that," she muttered, shaking her head.

_And we're not married_, she thought, massaging her abdomen. _We only said it because you had found him in my bed, and I had told you I was pregnant so you wouldn't kill him_.

"I said what I believe is best for my granddaughter and my great-granddaughter," she explained, narrowing her eyes.

Althea shifted uncomfortably on the sofa and the baby followed as well.

"Parents should be at home with their children and not out fighting. Is that what you want for your child? To be a widow? Or for the child to be an orphan? I dare say that's where you'll all end up if you continue this fighting."

"Do you want him to take over?" she asked, attempting to keep her anger in check.

"You're just like your parents—caring more about their research than their daughter—"

"Gran, _please_!" she replied, continuing to massage her stomach.

"You need to hear this, Althea Rosemary," she replied sternly, pointing her finger at Althea. "Your parents put you in constant danger, taking you all around the world like they did. After your mother passed, I insisted on taking you, but your father disagreed. I could have kept you safe."

Althea laughed. "Safe? How would you have explained magic, Gran? You couldn't have kept me from Hogwarts," she remarked, amused.

"I kept George."

Althea opened and closed her mouth in surprise. "George? Uncle George was a wizard?" she asked and Gran nodded. "It would have been impossible to keep him from Hogwarts. How did you do it?"

Gran straightened her skirt. "I bound his magic," she said plainly.

"You _bound_ his magic? How do you _bind_ someone's magic? I've never heard of such a thing—"

Gran sighed and leaned back against the armchair. "Some would say it was Dark Magic, but I don't believe so—not when you've been through what I've been through."

"Dark Magic? After _many_ lectures on Sirius and how he's as evil as his family, you—you go and use Dark Magic against your son? How could you?" Althea said with astonishment.

"I had to, Althea Rosemary—you wouldn't understand," she replied, her eyes darting from side to side in agitation.

"_Try me_," she growled through gritted teeth.

Gran shook her head. "Just know that I had my reasons—very good reasons; however, with your father I missed taking the potion...you saw what happened there," she explained and folded her hands in her lap.

"That's terrible," she whispered and covered her mouth.

_I could never have done that to our baby, never_, she thought, placing her other hand on the spot on her abdomen the baby had kicked. _Where would Gran even learn such a horrific thing?_

"Was it?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Look at everything around you, Althea Rosemary. The Ministry is losing, Muggles and wizards are dying everyday; how can you expose your child to this?"

"That is why Sirius is out there, Gran, so we don't have to expose her to this," she replied, her voice tightening.

Gran shook her head. "You've made a grave mistake," she responded, looking from Althea's face to her abdomen.

Althea's eyes widened. "Our baby is _not_ a mistake. How dare you say that!" she admonished—her voice shaking. "I love her and would give my life for her."

"Her—at least it is _her_," she replied, folding her arms. "Maybe she'll be less like her father."

"Stop it!" she scolded, vigorously rubbing her forehead. "I know you don't trust him, but I don't need this right now."

"Of course, I don't trust him—look what he's doing now. He will end up hurting you, Althea Rosemary, and your baby," she replied firmly as she stood. "He can't help it. Now, I hear his wretched motorbike, so I must be going."

Althea sighed and rubbed her stomach. "Don't listen to what Gran said, right," she whispered to her stomach. "Your mummy and daddy love you very much and we can't wait to see you," she added uneasily.

_If only he'd bloody prove it_, she thought, frowning.

Suddenly, Sirius thrust the front door open and stood in the doorway into the drawing room—his hair and clothes soaked from rain and his face pale. Althea attempted to stand, but he motioned with his hands for her to remain seated as he spoke, "Please, just sit there."

"Sirius, what's the matter?"

Sirius, his mannerisms agitated and uncharacteristic, sat next to her and held her close. "God, I've missed you," he answered and kissed her lips.

Althea reluctantly pushed him away. "I've missed you, too—Gran was driving me mad," she replied, wiping the wet hair from his face. "Sirius, what is the matter? You're so pale. I never received a message about where you were, and I wrote Lily, but the note wasn't touched."

Sirius took her hands in his. "There's a reason why Lily didn't write you back," he began and her heart sank. "Don't worry, Lily is fine, but we have to leave."

"Leave?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius nodded and in a low voice began, "We have information that Voldemort is after James and Lily."

Althea felt the blood quickly drain from her face and torso. She never wanted to think of losing Lily or James or Harry. "What would he want with James and Lily?"

"We don't know why, but it's his top priority," he explained in a whisper. "He's wanted them for some time now—the old protections aren't enough. We won't see them for some time, but don't worry, they'll be safe."

Althea rested her hand on her stomach. "Is that where you were?" she asked, massaging her stomach.

Sirius rested his hand atop hers. "Yes, and I'm sorry I didn't send a message—I couldn't," he explained softly and kissed her lips.

"So that's why we have to leave—we have to go into hiding as well," she said quietly, looking into his eyes. "They'll come after us because they're our best friends."

Sirius nodded his head and brought her hands to his face. "I've already begun to arrange our hiding, and we'll be in full hiding in a week or so," he explained and Althea frowned. "I know…I know," he murmured, kissing her forehead and then her lips. "But we'll be in your favorite place," he whispered and attempted a nervous smile. "We'll be safe. James, Lily, and Harry will be safe," he reassured and kissed her lips once more. "You know I would _never_ let anything happen to you or to our little girl."

"Right," she sighed and rested her forehead against his shoulder. She wrinkled her nose, as Sirius smelled of rain and motor oil. "Please, don't leave anymore," she whispered, holding him tightly.

"I won't leave anymore," he replied softly, stroking her back. "You're going to become sick of me."

"Never," she replied attempting levity, but failing miserably.

The news of the threat against her best friend and Harry drained her of any happiness. _What will happen to us_, she wondered, as he kissed the top of her head.


	46. The Cottage, Halloween 1981

**The Cottage, Halloween 1981**

Althea yawned and scratched the top of her head as she woke from a marvelous dream. _I wish I could go back to that dream_, she thought, the dream still fresh in her memory. In her dream, she was no longer pregnant, but sat on the beach of her Bermuda home and watched her children from under a large, floppy straw hat. Her daughter, now five, with her younger brother, were hunched over a tide pool—cheering and giggling as Sirius picked up a wiggling starfish. Unfortunately, she woke from her dream as her daughter excitedly called her to see the rather large starfish. Sighing at her interrupted dream, she arched her back and felt the popping of her lower spine. Lowering her back, Sirius held her tighter, which caused her to smile. _He fell asleep next to my stomach again_, she thought, stroking the back of his head, which lay just next her enlarged stomach. She admired the gesture, but the extra weight of his arm across her stomach made it uncomfortable. She had to roll onto her side.

"Sirius," she said quietly, stroking the hair away from his face. "Sirius, wake up."

Sirius shifted and sat up. "Morning," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

"Morning," she replied, slightly sitting up. "She was cuddling next to you again," she added, rubbing her stomach—still feeling her daughter cuddled to the one side where Sirius had been.

"She was," he smiled, resting his hand on her stomach. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow. "Is that a foot?" he asked, looking into Althea's eyes.

Althea placed her hand where Sirius's had been. Indeed, she felt a foot—a tiny foot pressed against her side. "It is her foot," she answered excitedly as she lifted her nightgown. "Look," she said as she gazed at the imprint.

Sirius quietly laughed and gently traced the outline of the tiny foot. "Beautiful baby foot," he said affectionately and kissed the imprint. "She's full term, right?" he asked, kissing the imprint again.

Althea nodded and Sirius leaned his face close to her stomach.

"Come on out," he said and tickled the baby's foot.

The baby quickly retracted her foot and flipped, causing the two to laugh. "Oh, she didn't like that at all," Althea said, rubbing her stomach.

"Ticklish, just like her mother," he replied, tickling Althea's side.

Althea squirmed and laughed as Sirius tickled her sides. "St—stop! Stop it!" she forced herself to exclaim through her giggles. "Stop!" she laughed, pushing him away from her.

Sirius stopped and frowned. "Come on out," he said again to her stomach. Sighing, he directed his attention to her face. "Althea, is there any way of speeding this up?"

"We have about two weeks until she's due, and telling her to come out won't work," she answered with amusement as Sirius sighed disappointedly. "She'll arrive when she pleases."

Sirius bit his bottom lip and furrowed his eyebrows. "Maybe she's not hearing me," he muttered and attempted to open Althea's legs.

"Sirius what are you doing?" she asked laughingly, sitting up and sliding her legs away from him.

"I was attempting another angle," he said, feigning innocence, shrugging his shoulders.

"'Another angle,'" she murmured. "You are hopeless," she teased, holding his face in her hands.

"So, what if I am?" he replied, smiling, as he placed his hand on her stomach. "I've never wanted something so much. I don't know how you can carry her for nine months—I'd want her out immediately."

"I've wanted to hold her for a long time," she replied, resting her forehead against his. "But she'll come out when she's ready. She's probably having a laugh that she's driving her father mad," she remarked, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Probably," he murmured and kissed her lips. Pulling away, he threw himself backward on the bed and covered his face with his hands. "I can't take anymore waiting!" he bemoaned as he flung his hands at his sides.

"Be patient, in two weeks you'll wish you could shove her back in," she replied, lying back on the bed.

Sirius sat up and crawled next to her. "No, I won't," he scoffed, lying beside her. "I'm looking forward to three in the morning feedings and dirty nappies."

"Are you?" she laughed.

"Of course, I am," he replied happily and kissed her cheek. "You know," he began—resting his head on her shoulder, "we really should find a name for her."

"What names have we gone over?" she asked, kissing the top of his head.

"The entire book, I'd say," he replied, placing his hand upon her stomach.

"I did like Eugenie Frances," she said, resting her hand on top of his.

"I liked it, too, but she doesn't seem like she's a Eugenie Frances."

Althea giggled and smiled. "How would you know she's not a Eugenie Frances?" she asked, messing his hair.

"It's a feeling I have," he explained, kissing her collarbone. "Maybe we should wait until she's born—then we can decide on a name."

"A good idea, but we'll have to wait for Lily's gift, then," she replied. "She wanted to know the baby's name so she could sew it on a blanket she made for her."

Sirius propped his head up on his bent arm. "So, is that what she wrote about yesterday?" he asked, playing with the strap of her nightgown.

Althea nodded. "What did you think she wrote about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know," he muttered, still fiddling with the strap of her nightgown.

"You thought we were writing about you and James, didn't you?" she asked and laughed as Sirius smiled sheepishly. "Like we spend our entire letters gossiping about you—we save that for our conversations," she teased and Sirius frowned slightly, increasing her laughter. "You're wondering if we contrast and compare, aren't you?" she asked as Sirius blushed a little. "I don't tell her everything, if that's what you're wondering."

"What do you tell her then?" he asked, letting go of her nightgown strap.

Althea sighed and stretched her arms before her. "I told her about the song you sometimes sing to wake me up in the morning."

"You told her about the song?" he asked, a small crease appeared between his eyebrows.

"I hope you're not upset, but it came on the wireless and I started to giggle," she began to explain, stroking the hair out of Sirius's eyes. "I love when you sing to me, and she thought it was cute. James doesn't sing to her."

"That's because James can't sing," he replied with a slight smile. "So…" he began slowly—tugging at her nightgown strap again.

"Don't even ask because I'm not telling you," she replied. "Anyway, you can ask him when you see him next. Oh, don't frown," she added, ruffling his hair. "At least you can see James and write him directly. I have to go through you and I can't see Lily."

"It's too dangerous," he replied, kissing her cheek.

"I know," she muttered. "It's too dangerous for me to visit Diagon Alley. It's too dangerous for me to visit Lily. It's too dangerous for me to leave the cottage. Now it's too dangerous for me to stay _in_ the cottage," she added with frustration. "Where the bloody hell am I supposed to go?"

"That's why we're leaving tomorrow," he answered, taking her hand in his.

"Thank God," she muttered, "I'll finally be able to walk about without the fear of being blown up."

"Althea, don't talk like that," he replied and kissed her hand.

"It's true; sometimes I wonder just how much of a liability I am," she replied, staring at the ceiling. "You shouldn't have to worry about us. We're keeping you from fighting. You could barely stand staying inside this entire week—I saw you. It's not fair," she explained, turning her head toward him. "So, if you want to stay here…I'll understand."

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "What…you want me to leave you?"

Althea nodded. "Others have done so."

"Well, I'm not like other wizards," he replied, massaging her hand. "Althea, I'd never think of leaving you. Whatever you're thinking right now, stop—you're not a burden. Tomorrow we'll be in Bermuda and it'll be better, I promise," he said softly and kissed her cheek. "No danger and no war."

_I hope you're right, Sirius_, she thought, caressing his cheek. Sirius smiled and kissed the inside of her wrist. She would not blame him if he left—other wizards had done so to protect their loved ones. She was a liability—he could not deny it—and he needed to stay and fight. From what he told her, the Order was not growing; it was shrinking and some suspected someone had turned spy.

Three weeks ago, they had a horrible fight when Sirius had berated her for inviting Remus for tea because he believed Remus to be the spy. Voldemort had made it known to give special privileges to Dark creatures that had been previously denied them, and many Dark creatures had already turned to Voldemort's side. Sirius believed that it was only a matter of time before Remus was enticed by those freedoms denied him by the Ministry and Wizarding society. Althea thought this absurd because Remus had far greater loyalty to his friends and to Dumbledore, and not some Dark wizard making false promises. She reminded him that a week prior, one of Voldemort's supporters had approached him, and she hypothetically accused Sirius of being the spy to prove how ridiculous his assumption was. Enraged that she would even think him a spy and supporter of Voldemort, Sirius stormed out the cottage and spent the night in Godric's Hollow. The two did not speak for an entire day, and secretly, she hoped he had remained away.

There was nothing legally holding him to her, and their daughter would never carry his last name. She often wondered that if she weren't pregnant, would they be speaking? The pregnancy had not brought them closer together, and they were no closer than the day Harry was born. Now, in the early morning, they would leave for Bermuda, and she wished the seclusion would strengthen their fledgling relationship. However, it was not right taking him away, and she knew he would resent his decision, and in time, grow to resent her. If it came to it, she would leave him.

"Sirius, I want you to be honest with me," she explained, looking into his eyes. "Have we lost?" she asked, intently looking for any change in his expression that would give his true answer away.

Sirius's grey eyes flickered. "Lost?"

"Yes, lost. Have we lost?" she asked again with agitation. "Is everyone in hiding now?"

"No, no," he said soothingly, cupping her face in his hands. "Not everyone has gone into hiding. James, Lily, Harry, and us are the only ones in hiding so far," he explained, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Hiding isn't necessary for them—not yet at least."

Althea frowned. "Maybe we're just temporarily preventing the inevitable," she muttered darkly, turning her face away from him.

With his fingers, Sirius turned her face to his. "Don't you ever say that," he said emphatically, looking into her eyes. "We'll be safe, and I would do anything to protect you and our daughter. I won't let them touch you," he assured and kissed her lips. "I promise."

"So, she'll be born in Bermuda," she said, massaging her stomach.

"Not unless she comes out today," he replied, sitting up. "Come on out," he said tenderly to her stomach.

As he frowned, Althea smiled.

Sirius leaned closer to her stomach. "Maybe I'll have to try something else," he muttered, not taking his gaze from her stomach.

"What are you going to try?" she asked, sitting up slightly. "You're not attempting to try what you did before?" she added—her eyes narrowing.

"No, no," he murmured, and cleared his throat. "'The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful, and so are you. Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play,'" he sang softly and kissed her stomach.

Althea smiled as he lifted his head from her stomach. "I liked that."

"Is it working?" he asked eagerly, resting his hand atop hers.

"No, but I liked that name," she answered, "and I think she liked it, too. I can feel her little hand pressing against mine."

"Really?" he replied excitedly and slid his hand underneath hers. "I can feel it," he replied, grinning. "That's it, that's her name," he added, sitting up.

"Prudence?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah—it's a perfect name. I don't know why we didn't think of it before."

"Probably because one wouldn't assign the trait of _prudence_ to either of us," she replied and Sirius playfully frowned. "Lily and James will find this very funny, you know."

"Let them," he replied, lying next to her. "I think it's a beautiful name for a beautiful baby."

Althea took his hand in hers, holding it in front of her face. "Are you going to act this way with every baby?" she asked, folding and extending his fingers.

"Probably," he smiled, resting his fingertips against hers. "How many did we decide on?"

"Four," she replied quickly.

Sirius laughed quietly and shook his head. "No, I think it was more like seven," he reminded, removing his hand from hers. "That way we can play the Potters—"

"Like Lily will have seven children for a Quidditch team side," Althea interrupted, rolling her eyes. "By the way, we've decided against your plan of simultaneous pregnancies."

"Oh _come on_," he sighed heavily, gently tugging at one of her curls. "It's a wonderful plan—James loved it—born around the same time, grow up together, attend Hogwarts—"

"What if they're sorted into different Houses?"

"Like they'll be sorted into different Houses," he scoffed, wrapping a curl around his finger.

"You never know," she replied, looking into his eyes. "My parents were in Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw," he repeated, rubbing his unshaven chin. "I suppose if we're going to have seven children, there will be a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff in there somewhere," he added, rubbing the side of his face.

"Well, we do know the Sorting Hat will tire of our family," she replied, stretching her legs.

Sirius smiled mischievously. "'Bloody hell, not another one,'" he replied, imitating the Sorting Hat. "'Mother is part Muggle…why don't they get some bloody Muggle birth control—the Wizarding kind's obviously failed them. Well, I suppose I'll put you with the rest of your lot,'" he finished as she snickered at his Sorting Hat imitation.

"Hogwarts is so lucky you don't sort the children," she replied, messing his hair. "You'd constantly insult them."

"I'd just insult the children I didn't like," he replied, fixing his hair. "Malfoy, eh? Seems like your mother uncrossed her legs just enough for the one."

"You're awful."

"I'm not awful—I'm telling the truth," he explained, tugging at a curl that had fallen into her face.

"I wonder what they'll say about our children," she muttered, brushing the curl off her face.

"They'll be too horrified to say anything," he remarked. "To be able to see their faces as we parade our children down Diagon Alley to get school supplies," he added and smirked. "I hope my mother's there—maybe it'll kill her."

Althea sat up. "I don't know," she responded, adjusting her nightgown. "Once she sees our daughter, your mother will change her mind."

"I'm not letting her anywhere near our daughter," he replied harshly, folding his arms. "Anyway, she doesn't like children, and she especially doesn't like babies."

Althea awkwardly swung her legs over the side of the bed. "How could she not like babies?" she asked and grunted as she stood.

"Easy," he replied, as she walked toward the dressing table. "Babies bring joy and my mother despises joy. And they're messy, cry a lot, and smell," he explained as she sat at the dressing table.

Althea dipped her quill into the inkbottle. "Your mother probably didn't want to marry your father as well, huh?" she asked as she started to write a letter to Lily.

"You are perceptive."

"How tragic," she replied wistfully, "marrying someone you didn't love, while you watch the person you do love marry someone else. Each of you going through the motions of a loveless marriage—having children and watching your youth slip away."

"How did you come up with that?" he asked with amusement.

"I read a lot," she quipped and smiled—placing her quill on the dressing table. "Your mother is the melodramatic sort."

"You have no idea," he sighed and Althea heard him sit up. "What were you writing?"

"A letter to Lily," she answered, folding the letter and slipping it into an envelope. "You can take it to her later this morning with the tin of Pumpkin Pasties I made yesterday."

"Do I get a Pumpkin Pasty or two?" he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Yeah, but not the ones in the tin—ours are on the plate on the table," she replied, placing her hands on top of his.

"Right," he replied and kissed her cheek. "I'll make us some breakfast and after I'll go."

Althea watched as Sirius left the room. _By the time I'm done dressing, there'll be no more Pumpkin Pasties for me_, she thought as she stood and collected her things for her bath. Sirius was a notorious snack eater, and as she noticed this morning, had the beginnings of a small stomach to prove it. After her bath, she dressed and entered the kitchen. The smell of cooked sausages and eggs filled her nostrils, causing her stomach to growl. Slowly sitting in her chair at the table, she eagerly waited for Sirius to place the plate in front of her.

"Here you go," he said as he placed the plate in front of her and kissed her cheek.

"Thanks," she replied and took a mouthful of egg. "This is fantastic," she said and took another bite of egg. "I had the most awful breakfasts when you were gone."

Looking up from her plate, she noticed Sirius already reading the _Daily Prophet_. She was about to ask if there was any interesting news, but frowned when she saw the headline—she was not very hungry anymore. In bold black letters the headline read:

**Family of Four Found Dead in their Beds: **

**Supporters of You-Know-Who Suspected**

Pushing her plate away, she continued to read the article. The family of four was found the day before, lying in their beds dead, by their Muggle neighbor. The Ministry collected the information and Obliviated the neighbor's memory. The supporters were still at large, and the Ministry believed they would never be captured.

"The youngest was two," she murmured as Sirius turned the page.

"What? Oh, yeah," he replied dully as he closed the paper. "Horrible," he sighed, folding the paper and setting it next to his plate on the table.

"The attacks are becoming more frequent on the continent now, too," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "Jane sent me a letter with news of her neighbor's disappearance. They're very scared," she continued and took a sip of water. "She has two small children and another's on the way."

"Three kids," he whispered as he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "You haven't told her anything, have you?" he asked—his eyes narrowing.

Althea shook her head. "No, I haven't told her anything about tomorrow. Lily, of course, knew and I've only discussed it with Gran," she replied and bit her lip. "I didn't want Gran to worry."

"Do you think she'd worry?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yes, she would," she answered defensively, narrowing her eyes. "I'm her only living relative, Sirius," she continued despite his derisive laughter. "She's highly protective of me."

Sirius leaned forward on his chair and the chair created a loud _crack_ as it hit the floor. "So, was that why she hexed me out of the house on your seventeenth birthday? Threatened to kill me when she found me in our bed last March?" he asked bitterly, folding his arms.

"She didn't kill you, did she?"

"She didn't kill me because you threw yourself across me and told her you were pregnant," he reminded, frowning. "Bloody hell," he sighed, running his hands through his hair. "What will it take for that woman to trust me?" he asked with visible frustration.

"Present her with Voldemort's head," she quipped, but Sirius frowned. "She'll warm up to you eventually."

"_Eventually_," he repeated as he stood. "I'll dress and leave," he said as he walked toward Althea. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, though," he added and kissed the top of her head.

"Right," she sighed as she watched Sirius exit the kitchen.

_No more Pumpkin Pasties for you_, she thought, frowning as she looked at the half empty plate. _You don't know it, Sirius, but you are going on a diet when we reach Bermuda_.

* * *

"Be careful," she said, tugging at his jacket.

"I will," he sighed and kissed her cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No, spend some time with James," she replied, handing him the tin of sweets. "It'll be awhile before you see him again, and I doubt he's enjoying his forced seclusion either."

"Thanks," he replied, smiling. "I'll see you later, then," he added as he started his motorbike.

"Bye," she mouthed over the loud roar of the motorbike engine.

Althea waved goodbye and watched as the motorbike kicked up dirt and dust as it traveled down the gravel path. Closing the front door, she sighed—she was alone, and how long she would be alone, she did not know. _He probably won't be back before dinner_, she thought, resting the back of her head against the door. _He needs to spend time with James, though, their friendship has been so strained this past week or so_. Both men were extremely restless, and a forced seclusion increased their agitation. Althea had never known them to fight, and two days ago, they did. According to Lily's letter, it was an awful fight, obviously brought about by the events of the week. Upon reading the letter, she immediately confronted him about it, and after some arguing, he returned to the Potters' hiding place to apologize.

"So, what am I supposed to do now?" she thought aloud, looking around the empty sitting room.

She had an entire afternoon and evening before her—an entire afternoon and evening of nothing. _I suppose I could go out into the garden and pick a pumpkin or two_, she thought, walking toward the kitchen. _It is Halloween after all_. Smiling at her small rebellion of not wearing a coat, she opened the kitchen door and headed out into the chilly late morning air. _My last day of this horribly cold place_, she thought, watching her breath linger before her in the cold air. In the early morning, the couple would take her car that he charmed to fly, leaving everything behind—except for those things previously sent ahead—for her family home in Bermuda. They would start a new life in Bermuda, where the threat of Voldemort had yet to reach. She hated the idea of total isolation from family and friends, but they had to do it—to protect themselves and to protect their baby.

Entering the garden, she carefully stooped to pick two small pumpkins. _These will make decent jack-o-lanterns_, she thought, carrying them back to the cottage. Resting one small pumpkin on her stomach, she awkwardly managed to open the cottage door and entered.

"To carve them with a wand or a knife?" she said aloud, holding up her wand in one hand and a large carving knife in the other.

Frowning at the wand, she decided on using the knife. _My magic has been a bit wonky lately_, she thought, cutting into the top of the pumpkin. Unlike Lily, Althea developed the rare side effect all witches dreaded developing in the last months of their pregnancies—Misfiring Magic. Not much was known about the rare side effect, but one leading researcher believed it to happen due to the baby's magic interacting with the mother's magic; however, it did not explain the cases of Muggle mothers. Yes, not only was Misfiring Magic a Wizarding phenomenon, but there were a few documented cases of Muggle mothers who later gave birth to Muggle-born witches and wizards as well. With the arrival of the Wizarding School letter, the Muggle mother discovered that the blown up light bulb or exploded toaster oven was not the error of some faulty wiring, but infrequent surges in the baby's magic. Of course, Sirius had his own theories about why it happened, but it had more to do with his ego than actual scientific evidence.

"Would you like to listen to some music?" she asked her stomach as she paused from pulling out the pumpkin's insides.

Making a face at her pumpkin covered hands, she decided it turn on the Wizard Wireless with her wand.

"_Amplificare_," she said, pointing her wand at the Wizard Wireless.

With a soft _click_, it turned on and she smiled with relief, as she did not blow up the Wizard Wireless.

"Oh, your mummy's favorite band," she said happily as she continued to pull out pumpkin seeds.

Humming along, she decided to turn up the volume and as she cast the charm to turn up the volume, it began to spark.

"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed nervously as she waddled over to the kitchen counter. "Don't! Just stop that!" she continued, waving her arms as it hissed and sparked.

The Wizard Wireless rattled across the counter, spun, and fell to floor, leaving a pile of shattered and melted plastic.

"Bugger," she mumbled and shook her head. "You are going to be a handful, aren't you?" she remarked, staring at her stomach.

Finding the broom, she swept the broken Wizard Wireless into the dustbin and continued carving her pumpkins. _The kitchen still smells like burnt plastic_, she thought as she finished the last pumpkin. For a moment, she entertained the thought of casting a charm to remove the smell, but decided against it. The thought of kitchen cabinets spewing dishes at her, or even worse the house exploding around her, caused her to place her wand in the kitchen drawer.

"You would blow up the house, wouldn't you?" she said to her stomach and felt the baby kick. "We're _not_ having seven," she muttered as she left the kitchen.

* * *

It was half past seven and Sirius had not arrived home yet. Althea decided to cook dinner for herself as surely Sirius was enjoying dinner with the Potters. After her solitary dinner, she entered the nursery that was once the guestroom and sighed sadly. _Prudence will never enjoy this room_, she thought as she leaned against the doorframe. The same day they discovered she was pregnant, the two started to collect things for the nursery. However, most of the time, it was Sirius seeing something in a shop somewhere and buying it on impulse. Resting her hands on the cot, she gazed at the mural as a white rabbit hopped across the lush grass, stopping to eat a dandelion, while an orange butterfly flitted across the blue sky, landing on a thick blade of grass. She had decided to paint the mural to keep her occupied in her voluntary, and then forced, seclusion. She had not intended the mural to move, but Sirius had charmed the walls one morning in September. At first, she was upset that he would charm the mural without asking her—she wished just one thing would be hers and hers alone to give to the baby.

"I don't know when I'll be able to paint another one," she said sadly, looking around the painted room. "Maybe you'll see it one day," she added, and massaged her stomach. "But when you're older, we'll paint your room in Bermuda together," she added and walked toward the rocking chair.

_Hopefully, we won't have to leave there either_, she thought as she carefully sat in the rocking chair. Unfortunately, she was not careful enough and the back of the rocking chair slammed into her head. _You'd think I'd know how to sit in this thing by now_, she thought, rubbing the back of her head. _I wish I could take it along, though_, she thought, resting her hands on the smooth wooden armrests. She closed eyes in an attempt to remember the few memories of her mother. Slowly rocking, she remembered her mother in that very rocking chair, holding Althea on her lap, while combing Althea's hair after a bath. Althea strained to remember her perfume. _I suppose we could buy a new rocking chair_, she thought, opening her eyes, _but it won't be the same_.

"Sirius, where are you—it's almost eight o'clock," she said and sighed, looking up at the painted ceiling as a bluebird flew across a slightly cloudy sky.

Suddenly, she heard Sirius's motorbike traveling against the gravel path and relaxed. A few minutes later, she heard a _pop_ and the deliberate footsteps of Sirius as he walked into the kitchen.

"Althea?" he called as she heard him enter the drawing room.

"I'm sitting in the nursery," she answered and started to stand from the rocking chair.

"Don't stand, I'll come to you," he replied as she heard him change the direction he was walking in.

A few seconds later—cheeks pale pink from the wind—he entered the nursery with a large, elaborately wrapped package.

"Hello, lovely," he said happily, bending to give her a kiss.

Althea pulled away, touching the back of her hands to his face. "You're so cold," she replied as she smoothed his windswept hair.

"I'm impervious to cold," he replied and sat on the nearby toy chest. "Anyway," he continued, taking a letter from his leather jacket. "This is for you from Lily," he said, handing her the letter, "and the large package is for Prudence."

Althea quickly opened the letter and smiled. "Oh, she likes the name, and believes at the Sorting Ceremony there will be a few snickers from certain faculty," she paraphrased for Sirius. "She also wrote that you took Harry for a short ride today."

Sirius smiled and laughed nervously.

"She misses me desperately and dreadfully wants to see me again," she said sadly—tears welling up in her eyes.

She was leaving tomorrow—what was the harm in flying by their hiding place for a quick meeting? She would not know when she would be able to see Lily or Harry again.

"Sirius, is there any way I can see her before we leave?"

Sirius shook his head. "No, Althea, you can't," he replied, moving the toy chest closer to her.

Althea bit her lip. "Please, we're leaving tomorrow and I won't see her for a long time," she replied, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Sirius wrapped his arms around her and she leaned her head against his chest—his leather jacket still cold from the ride. "Don't cry," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "I know you want to see her, but it's too dangerous."

"Please," she whispered, continuing to cry.

Sirius squeezed her tightly and sighed. "I'll see what I can do," he replied and kissed the top of her head again. "I'll arrange something for tomorrow."

"Thank you," she whispered as she attempted to stop her crying. Sitting up, she wiped the tears from Sirius's jacket. "I'm sorry about that—I'd cast a Cleaning Charm to remove that, but I'd be too afraid I'd blow you up," she explained, regaining her happiness.

Sirius laughed. "Yes, I noticed a smell of burnt plastic in the kitchen," he replied, using his thumbs to wipe the rest of her tears away. "Have to buy another wireless," he sighed, resting his hands on her stomach. "So what was it this time—turning it on?"

"No," she responded—resting her hands atop his, "I wanted to turn up the volume and it exploded then."

"She probably didn't like the song," he replied, smiling to himself. "What was it?"

"It was Orpheus," she answered and Sirius's grin broadened. "Stop smiling," she added, removing her hands from his.

"I can't help it," he laughed and leaned closer to her stomach. "Well done, dear Prudence," he added proudly and kissed her stomach. "Don't let your mummy listen to that wretched music."

"Wretched?" she repeated, messing his hair as he sat up. "I do remember someone having just as many Orpheus albums as me," she teased, rubbing her chin.

"Yeah, Orpheus were a good band, _were_," he replied, folding his arms.

Althea bit her lip to stop her giggling at Sirius's jealousy. "You only dislike that band because—"

"Alexander Star—what a stupid name—is a smarmy git—"

"_Because_ one of his security guards asked if Lily and I wanted to go backstage after a concert."

"Exactly," he replied and bit the inside of his cheek.

Althea laughed. "We didn't go backstage—"

"But you wanted to."

"Of course, it's _Alexander Star_," she replied and Sirius muttered something under his breath. "Were you and I together at the time? No. Did I go backstage? No. Anyway, you should take it as a compliment that he found me attractive, and know that I chose you and not him," she explained as Sirius continued to frown. "Like girls didn't chase after you," she teased, stroking the inside of his calf with her foot. "I remember one time, I knocked on your flat door, and some blonde wearing one of your shirts answered. Then I heard you in the back, falling over things while you put your trousers on."

"And what did you have me do to those shirts?" he asked, locking his legs around her leg.

"Incinerate them," she answered plainly, wiggling her leg from his. "I wouldn't want to wear something they wore," she added and made a face. "Thankfully, you never let any of them ride your motorbike, or I'd have you incinerate that, too."

"Oh, I would never let anyone but you ride my motorbike," he replied, stretching his legs out before him.

"That's not true; you let James, Lily, _and_ Harry ride your motorbike," she remarked.

"Anyone _romantically_ involved with," he corrected, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll never forget the first time you rode on the back of it," he mused—the grin widening across his face. "Gran screaming at you to get back in the house, you told her no, and hopped on the back of the motorbike. Then you wrapped your arms around me, and we rode off, leaving Gran screaming," he reminisced and sighed happily. "That was fantastic."

"Yes, back to your flat where we barely made it up the stairs to your flat door," she remembered and Sirius laughed loudly, which caused the baby to move. "You startled her with your laughing," she added, rubbing her stomach.

"Did I? I'm so sorry, Prudence," he replied softly and kissed her stomach. "We should open your present for you and you won't feel so terrible," he added and kissed her stomach.

"Shouldn't we wait until she's born?" Althea asked, lifting the package onto her stomach.

"I don't think so," he answered, looking at the package. "Come on, open it," he added eagerly, tugging at the purple and pink ribbon.

"Right," she replied and started to tear the pink, silver, and purple paper from the box. "This is absolutely gorgeous!" she exclaimed, holding up the soft, pink blanket.

"She made this?" he asked, holding the edges of the blanket.

Althea nodded. "She's always been able to sew and knit, but this—this is so beautiful," she explained and looked into Sirius's eyes. "Thank you for flying over to their hiding place today," she added and kissed his lips.

"No problem," he replied quietly, smiling. "She wouldn't let me leave until she was done with something, and she wouldn't let me go near her to see…. So this was the something…amazing," he said, looking at the blanket. "Look at her name in gold up in the corner."

"How beautiful," she whispered, running her fingers across the gold lettering. "Just imagine, Sirius, two weeks from now our Prudence will be wrapped in this blanket," she continued, draping the blanket over her stomach.

"Maybe we won't have to wait two weeks," he said, leaning close to her stomach. "Come on out, Prudence. Come on out so your godparents can see you before we travel to Bermuda," he said quietly to her stomach.

Althea laughed and stroked the back of Sirius's hair. "She'll come out when she's ready," she explained over Sirius's pleas for Prudence's birth. "No amount of pleading will work."

"Is she ready now?" he asked, looking up at her.

"No, Sirius," she replied and he frowned. "Enjoy these last few days without a child because we won't have that again until we're very old."

Sirius smiled and rested his face against her stomach. "I suppose you're right," he whispered, closing his eyes.

* * *

_What every mother-to-be witch must know is patience. Be patient. Your child will show magical ability someday, and it may not be for weeks, months, or years. If by a rare case, your child is a Squib, do not frown. Squibs lead happy, productive lives…._

_What if she shows magical ability in the womb_, she thought, placing the book on her stomach. Harry was a very magical baby, but he did not do much that would cause distress—he had never blown up two Wizard Wireless, or one. Once, James had left his wand on the table and Harry had charmed his toys to rotate like the mobiles in Muggle baby cots. Harry's magic was cute and safe, but Althea had the suspicion Prudence's magic would be of the naughty sort. Althea looked at Sirius—who sat perpendicular to her on the sofa—with his knees to chest, intently reading and then periodically writing on a folded piece of paper. For the most part, he was well behaved, but there was that dangerous side to him—and to her, too. What was he like before Hogwarts? She knew what she was like—pampered, adventurous, and demanding—and she knew what he was like during and after Hogwarts. Nevertheless, what was he like for those ten or so years before they met? He never liked to talk much about his life in the Black family house. It was obviously too painful, and in some ways maybe it was better for him to concentrate his mind on their growing family and not the past. Sighing, she picked up her book, _Baby Magic and You—What to Expect_, and continued reading.

Suddenly, Sirius cleared his throat. "Who wrote _Taming of the Manticore_?" he asked as Althea continued to read the childcare book.

Althea paused from reading the sentence. "I think it was Aristotle Hamnet," she replied, and continued to read the sentence about magical ability at one month of age.

"Right, thanks," he muttered. A few minutes later Sirius spoke up again, "Who was the late sixteenth century Muggle that started the disbelief in Wizardry?"

Althea placed a bookmark in her book and rested the book on top of her stomach. "Sixteenth century Muggle?" she repeated quietly, frowning. "I think it was Frederick von Spee, but why do you need to know this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep, it is Spee," he mumbled, and crossed something out with a pencil. "Oh," he muttered, sitting up. "I'm working on a crossword puzzle," he explained, holding up a folded paper for her to see.

"A crossword puzzle," she replied, sliding herself closer to him. "I thought you hated crossword puzzles," she added, slowly leaning her back against his chest.

"I don't hate them," he replied, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I don't particularly like them, though," he explained, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm bored," he sighed. "How were you able to stay in here for so long?"

Althea rested the back of her head against his shoulder. "You forget how much I fought it at the beginning. I eventually thought of it as a well-deserved rest, and I wanted to keep our baby safe, so I found other things to do," she explained, intertwining her fingers with his. "Don't you notice how clean the cottage is?" she asked with a slight tone of bitterness, pulling his arms tighter around her.

"Of course, I notice," he replied. "You keep reorganizing things that I can't find my spare wand."

"We have to start putting things like wands away," she began, "it'll be dangerous to have those things lying about when she's born."

"I suppose you're right, but she's our child and it won't matter," he replied, kissing her cheek. "She'll find them anyway. I always did."

"What would you do?" she asked with slight apprehension.

Sirius chuckled quietly. "When I was five, I found one of my father's spare wands and set the rug on fire. Of course, I did this during a Christmas party. Then, there was the time when I was six, when I charmed Regulus and floated him out his bedroom window—that was a week after I pretended to be lost in front of my house. I sat in front of my house, and as some policeman went by, I told him I was lost," he explained as his laughing increased. "I spent the evening in a police station."

"I bet your parents weren't very happy with you," she replied, frowning slightly.

"No, no, they weren't happy, but I'll never forget them in a police station…. My mother actually _fainted_. Oh, and at seven, I found my father's broom and rode it out of the house—they didn't catch me until I was at James's," he explained, holding her tighter. "We rode around for at least an hour—that's how we met, actually," he added fondly. "After that, we'd owl each other all the time. I'd steal the Floo Powder and go to his house—"

"Sirius, we're only having one," she interrupted, sitting up.

"What? No," he replied, sitting up as well.

Althea turned to face him. "I was just as terrible as a child—except I didn't have the access to magic. I would decide I wanted to play and I would leave—never telling my father or Marie. Then, I'd climb things—the higher the better. After spending an entire afternoon or evening looking for me, they'd finally find me in some tree, or on a roof of some building," she explained, rubbing her stomach. "Sirius, if we were like that, just imagine what our children will be like."

Sirius laughed. "I doubt they'll be as terrible as us, and if they are, we'll hide the wands, the brooms, the Floo Powder, and we'll live underground where there are neither roofs nor trees," he replied and rested his hand atop hers. "If anything we'll know what to expect. Plus, you know, once she's born, she'll probably be lonely," he added and kissed the tip of her nose.

"No, Sirius," she sighed, attempting to suppress a smile. "Not right away—_at least_ two years before another baby."

"Oh, come on," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"No, and don't even start—"

"Start what?" he asked, faking innocence.

"Oh you know, 'Oh, Althea, I know we shouldn't have a baby right now, but wouldn't it be fantastic to have a baby together,'" she said, imitating Sirius.

"I never said that," he replied laughingly.

"Yes, you did—a month after you moved in—"

"Oh, now I remember, I did say _something_ like that, but you agreed," he replied, smiling to himself. "You have to admit February was very fun."

"Yeah, I'm still attempting to recover."

"You're not funny when you're pregnant," he replied and pinched her nose.

"You wouldn't be hilarious either if you had something kicking you at all hours of the day."

"No, I just have you doing that while I'm trying to sleep," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't kick you," she replied, folding her arms.

"Yes, you do," he began to explain, resting his head on his bicep against the top of the sofa. "Two days ago, in your sleep you kicked me."

"I probably kicked you because you took the bedclothes away," she muttered, playfully kicking him in the shin. "You don't know how many nights I wake up shivering and find you wrapped up in all the bedclothes."

"Why don't you get your own bedclothes, then?" he teased, making a face.

"Why don't I kick you out of bed, then?" she teased, making the same face.

"Get off my new bed," he replied, smiling.

"Obviously Prudence will be our only child then," she replied, smiling.

"Right, this teasing has gone too far," he said and Althea laughed. "You can't kick me out of the bed until we're married for at least twenty-five years—"

"But your mother might live for another twenty-five years."

"God help us," he muttered, looking toward the ceiling.

"Besides, I thought we decided we wouldn't marry," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "That we didn't want our children or me having your last name."

Sirius nodded. "Still true," he murmured, leaning his back against the arm of the sofa. "I want the name to die with me."

"Really?" she asked, turning and resting her back against the sofa.

"Yeah, I do," he replied as she picked up her book and continued reading.

_Do not be alarmed if your child has not levitated his bottle toward him by the twelfth month. Be on watch for another possible outlet to the child's magic. Observe his favorite toy, for example…._

Althea looked up from her book and blinked her dry eyes. _He's reading my _New Witch_ magazine_, she thought, looking out of the corner of her eye. _What could he possibly find interesting in there_? She laughed quietly as he turned the page and continued reading, engrossed in the article. Glancing at the cover, she realized he must have been reading, 'Twenty Ways to Please Your Magic Man,' written by her friend Mary. She cringed that Sirius might remember a few of the numbers. _She only had twelve and needed my help_.

"Hmm," he murmured, fixedly reading the article as Althea watched him.

Suddenly he started laughing, and Althea raised an eyebrow. _He's obviously remembering number fifteen_, she thought, smiling to herself. Obviously, the list did not evoke embarrassment, but created a sense of pride in Sirius. As she was about to continue reading, she noticed Sirius had stopped reading. He looked at her thoughtfully, raised an eyebrow, and a small smile crept across his face. Sighing, he went back to the article he was reading, and Althea continued to stare at him.

"You're thinking about number twelve, aren't you?" she asked as she placed her book on the coffee table and turned to face him.

Sirius jerked his head up and laughed. "No, I'm not," he replied, smiling. "I'm not even reading _that_ article. I'm reading about facial treatment potions."

"Are you sure?" she laughed, narrowing her eyes as Sirius turned the page.

"Very sure," he answered. "Oh, I think I'll buy you some of this. It's supposed to relax you after a tiring day."

"Right," she sighed, resting the side of her face against the back of the sofa. "Not thinking about number twelve."

"Nope," he replied, attempting to cover a smile, as he turned the page.

"Right, so you want to try number twelve?"

Sirius closed the magazine and placed it on the coffee table. He mockingly frowned and rubbed his chin as if in deep deliberation. "Perhaps," he answered, "but I do have certain fondness for number fifteen."

Althea chuckled quietly. "You would."

"What?" he said with mock indignation, sitting forward. "Your Animagus is a bloody bird. Fizzing Whizbees suit you—"

"Suit me?" she laughed. "You're such a wanker—"

"I remembered to shut the windows!" he said and pointed to the list in the glossy magazine. "Look, no mention of it here," he continued and laughed loudly. "Imagine strolling about Diagon Alley with naked couples floating above our heads."

Althea made a face. "I'd rather not."

"Come on, lovely," he said, an eager glint in his eye, "let's not argue."

The corner of her mouth upturned as Sirius's lips hesitated within millimeters of hers. "You're still a wanker," she whispered and gave into the pleasurable twinge that Sirius's lips evoked.

* * *

**AN:** The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful, and so are you. Dear Prudence, won't you come out to play-'Dear Prudence' by The Beatles


	47. The Cottage, November 1, 1981

**The Cottage, November 1, 1981**

_"Althea, sweetheart, let go," her mother said, tears forming in her eyes. _

_"No, Mummy," Althea said, her small fingers clung to the folds of her mother's robes. _

_"Everything will be all right," she murmured and kissed Althea's cheek. "Go." _

_Althea felt her mother pulling her hands from her and she struggled to hold on. "No, no, I won't!" she sobbed, burying her face in her mother's robes. _

_"My love, let go," she whispered, lifting Althea's tear-stained face. "I love you…"_

Althea took a large gasp of air as she opened her eyes and frantically attempted focus her eyes in the dark room. Sitting up, she immediately felt her stomach and started to cry. A kick from Prudence told her that her daughter was fine. _Why would I dream about that_, she thought, soothingly massaging her stomach. _Why would I dream about my mother's death_? Althea painfully swallowed. It was the second night that week that Althea dreamt of her mother's death. _I'm just so scared_, she thought, secretly cursing that Sirius could sleep so peacefully beside her. _What were we thinking? Why would we think we would be different? This child…I don't want to leave her like my mother_.

"Sirius! Sirius! Sirius, wake up!" she forced herself to say through her tightened throat.

She turned her head to find her bed empty—his side unmade. Slipping the nightgown over her head, she groaned softly as she stood. She tied her dressing gown as she awkwardly hurried to the bathroom, but he was not there. _Maybe he is in another part of the cottage—maybe the kitchen. God, what an awful dream_, she thought as she left her bedroom.

"Sirius!" she yelled as she entered the sitting room.

However, he was not there, nor was he in the darkened kitchen. He hadn't gone, had he? Trembling, from cold and fright, she walked toward the garage adjacent to the cottage. Maybe he was fixing her car, making sure it was safe for the long journey in the morning. She noticed the light was not on in the garage—her spirits began to dwindle. Taking an enormously deep breath, she slowly opened the door, expecting to see the chrome of his motorbike glistening in the moonlight.

"Damn," she muttered as she saw the empty space and oil puddle.

She knew it would happen—he would leave her. James must have told Sirius something while he was at their hiding place, or maybe he had received a message while she was sleeping—having to leave immediately. Resting her head against the cool doorframe, she began to remember how different he was that night. There was something more agitated about him—he was never that quiet. She had attributed it to the impending flight, but now she believed he was attempting to focus his mind away from what he had to do, which was to leave her. _A crossword puzzle—he's never been able to do a crossword puzzle his entire life_, she thought, massaging her stomach. Suddenly, she remembered he had not shown her the crossword puzzle paper—she took his word that he was working on a crossword puzzle. He was not working on a crossword puzzle, he was writing her goodbye.

Wiping the new tears from her eyes, she spoke, "God, how could I have been so stupid?"

_What do I do now_, she asked herself, looking at her cottage in the moonlight. _Do I stay here in England? Do I leave for Bermuda? Damn it! Why couldn't he have told me? Oh, Gran, you will be so pleased_, she thought as she walked toward the garden.

"Didn't even tell me goodbye," she whispered, massaging her stomach as she closed the garden gate and walked cobblestone path to the cottage.

The rustling of leaves and the snap of a twig broke her from her morose thoughts. Lifting her head, she looked around—unable to see anything in the dark. _Probably just a stray_, she thought, even so, she quickened her pace toward the door. _Why am I so scared_, she thought, laughing to herself, as she took hold of the doorknob. _It's just a bloody stray cat or dog—a gnome even_.

"It's locked," she muttered, frowning as she jiggled the doorknob. "I don't remember locking this door…bloody hell," she continued and slammed her hand against the door.

"You didn't lock it," said a cold voice from behind her. "We did."

Althea quickly caught her breath and continued to jerk at the doorknob.

"Stupid girl," the man laughed, and from the reflection in the window, Althea saw him raise his wand.

Quickly she ducked, and thrust her shoulder at him, knocking him backward. She started to run through her garden, obviously hindered by her pregnancy. Her legs, cut and bleeding from thorns and branches, carried her to the end of the garden, and as she was about to lift her leg over the low fence, she was hit in the back with a Leg Locker Curse. Horrified, she fell backward into one of her rosebushes and heard a woman cackling.

"Get away from me!" she shouted, flailing her arms as they surrounded her. "HELP!" she screamed as loud as she could as the man magically bound her wrists. "HELP!"

"No one can hear you scream, Muckblood," he replied, dragging her through various shrubs of her garden.

"LET ME GO!" she shouted as the garden fence tore her dressing gown away from her. "MY BABY!"

"We don't care," the woman said coolly as she helped the man attach the bindings to back of his broom. "Stop wiggling—you're only going to die slower!"

"HELP!" she screamed, suspended between the two brooms as they traveled just low enough to scrape her along the ground. "Help me, please!"

Althea's bound hands frantically grasped at any low-lying twig or branch in her path. She held as tight as she could until the Death Eaters would speed up, jerking her away. _No_, she thought as her grip loosened from the waxy evergreen leaves—she screamed.

"We're almost there, Muckblood, if you're still alive," the woman replied and Althea felt the brooms slow.

"Please, let me go," Althea croaked as they undid the magic bindings attached to the broom. "My baby! Please, my baby!"

"Would you stop talking about your pathetic child!" the man scolded and growled as Althea struggled. "Stupid Muckblood!"

Suddenly, she felt herself lifted off the ground and placed atop of a large, cold stone. Immediately, they magically bound her legs and her wrists to the stone and she struggled to break free—the curse starting to wear off her legs. Wands raised, they advanced on her. Althea inhaled sharply.

"What do you want?"

"In due time," the man replied with faked sweetness. "Now, _cru_—"

"ALTHEA!" Sirius shouted in the distance—his voice upset and frightened.

Althea immediately sat to attention. "Sirius!" she whispered excitedly.

A wave of relief enveloped her body. He would find her and she would be safe—their baby would be safe.

"NO!" the woman roared, pointing her wand at Althea. "_SILENCIO_!"

Althea felt her voice escaping. "No! NO! SIRIUS!" she attempted to scream with her entire body, lurching forward—the bindings cutting into her wrists. "SIRIUS!" she screamed again, her voice remaining silent. "SIRIUS!" she screamed again, regaining the use of her legs and flailing them along with her arms. "SIRIUS!"

Althea heard Sirius—his voice breaking—shout for her. Stinging tears streamed down her scraped cheeks as she continued to shout. She prayed Sirius would just venture farther into the woods; however, he did not and his shouting stopped. Althea let out a ferocious, silent scream—the bindings digging into her wrists…her wrist. Since the pregnancy, Althea had not attempted the Animagus transformation and she did not know the consequences of such an attempt, but she had to try. Althea felt a small shudder—a glimpse of hope—and nothing. She struggled against the bindings that prevented her from the transformation—how did they know?

The couple began to laugh. "He can't hear you," the woman said in a singsong voice.

Althea looked at the woman and spat on her mask.

"You little!" she screamed and slapped Althea across the face.

"Never mind!" the man shouted and muttered the counter spell. "We're here to have a bit of fun, remember?"

"My baby!" Althea pleaded, her body trembling.

"We don't care," the woman snorted, pointing her wand at Althea.

"Please," she breathed, wide-eyed, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please!"

"I don't care," the woman sneered. "_Crucio!_

Althea screamed and writhed upon the stone as the intolerable pain coursed through her body. Hot metal knives ripped the flesh from her bones—her bones seeming to break as she felt herself lifted from the stone.

"Having fun?" the woman teased.

Breathing heavily, Althea murmured, "I have to…escape…my baby." She struggled against her bindings, but they would not loosen.

"You are absolutely _boring_!" the man said laughingly as he moved closer to Althea. "Where's your sense of fun?"

"Again," the woman said with laughter in her voice. "_Crucio_!"

Althea attempted to turn her stomach away from the full blast of the curse. The searing pain once more coursed through her body, and this time, caused her to vomit on herself. The couple laughed and Althea's anger grew. _If I could just break free, I'd kill them_, she thought, looking as the woman rested her head on the man's shoulder. _I'm not going to let them kill us_.

"Should we wait around after we're done with her to see the look on that blood traitor's face?" the woman asked, stroking the masked man's cheek. "She's the worst sort of Muckblood, isn't she?"

The man nodded, raising his wand. "A lesson needs to be taught to both of them—"

"NOW!" she heard another man shout.

A jet of light coursed through the early morning darkness and erupted around her, deflecting the Death Eater's curse. From out of the brush came three members of the Order—including Frank Longbottom and Remus. The female Death Eater growled and a fight ensued between the four. Remus, ducking curses, immediately ran to Althea's side.

"God, Althea," he whispered, unbinding her wrists. "I'll take you to St. Mungo's—"

"No," she forced herself to say, "Gran's."

"Right," he breathed, stroking the damp hair from her face. Remus cast a Shield Charm over his shoulder. "Place your arms around my neck."

Too weak to do so, Remus placed her arms around his neck and awkwardly stood with the slumped Althea. Althea felt the squeeze of Side-Along Apparition and the two were at the doors to Northfield. Remus cast his Patronus and it soared high into the air and disappeared toward Gran's bedroom. In her haze, Althea smiled at the fright Gran must have had to see a large silver wolf in her bedroom. Shortly, Gran arrived at the door.

"Dear God!" she shouted as she looked at Althea. "Bring her in and we'll take her upstairs. You—"

"Remus Lupin."

"You, Mr. Lupin, call a Healer and her Midwife," Gran demanded as she looked at Althea.

Gran and the servants floated Althea up to a spare bedroom. Instead of resting her on her back, Gran rested her on her side. Gran immediately started to shout out orders to the servants while she sat next to Althea.

Grabbing Gran's arm, Althea mouthed, "Gran, my baby."

"Your baby will be fine, child," she replied and squeezed Althea's hand.

"Thank you," Althea mouthed.

Gran kissed Althea's forehead.

Without wasting anytime, Remus returned with Madam Doula and a Healer. Madam Doula, still in her nightgown, immediately went to examine Althea and her baby. The Healer, newly trained and very agitated, began to heal her wounds. Althea grabbed his arm, motioned to her neck, and he healed her voice.

"Remus," she said hoarsely, motioning him to sit on the bed with her. "Remus, please sit with me."

Remus nodded. "Althea, you're amazing," he whispered and kissed her forehead.

"Never mind me," she replied, her voice less hoarse. "You saved my baby."

Remus smiled sadly and went to squeeze her hand, but thought better of it. He muttered a Healing Charm to the deep cut upon her hand. Althea winced—the noise and bustle of the room was getting to her. However, she _had_ heard Sirius calling for her. Where was he? Had someone notified him that she was all right? He needed to be here for her and the baby. She needed him—she could not go through this without him.

"Sirius? Where's Sirius?" she asked, looking into Remus's eyes. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine, Althea," he replied tenderly, stroking the hair out of her face.

"Please, our baby—the baby will be born. He needs to be here with me," she said anxiously as Madam Doula frowned at her abdomen. "Please."

"He can't be here," he replied, "but everything is okay. Don't worry."

Althea gritted her teeth as the Healer mended the largest gash. "How—how's my baby?"

"Your baby's fine…for now," Madam Doula replied, resting her hand upon Althea's bare abdomen. "But we will have to induce labor…it's not safe for her to be in your womb anymore."

"I know," she said as the Healer mended the last of the marks on her body. Althea felt an awful stabbing pain that started in her back and radiated through her abdomen—she shuddered and yelped.

"Sorry," the Healer muttered.

Althea caught her breath and nodded. "Do what must be done," she murmured. Her eyes followed Madam Doula as she took the Inducing Potion from her bag. "Will I be all right?" she asked as Madam Doula poured out the Inducing Potion.

"Drink this," she replied, handing Althea a small glass of the thick purple potion.

Althea drank the potion and made a face. "Disgusting," she muttered as Madam Doula cast an Infusion Charm.

Gran had shooed all from the room except for the four. _Now we wait_, she thought, looking herself over. The gashes and abrasions along her arms and legs had healed with silvery pink scars that would fade with time and ointments. _Where is he_, she wondered as Gran wiped the dirt from Althea's face with a damp cloth. _What could be more important_? Indeed, what could be more important for Sirius to miss the birth of his child after Althea had been tortured? Althea looked toward Remus who sat upon the edge of the bed. His usual pleasant smile was replaced with a pensive, nervous expression. _He doesn't want to tell me_, she thought, rolling the corner of the blanket between her thumb and forefinger. _It was a trap and he's dead_.

"I think I should leave," Remus said, resting his hand upon hers. "You need your rest, and I don't think I'm particularly welcome here."

"No," she said, grabbing his hand. "I need you here with me, Remus."

"Althea, it's not appropriate. I'm—"

"It's not a bloody full moon."

Remus laughed quietly. "I'm not the father," he whispered.

"Well, he's not here," she said, not letting go of Remus's hand. "You don't have to stay for the birth, but until then…don't leave, please."

"Right," he replied and kissed her damp forehead.

* * *

Sore, dazed, and still hazy from poppy juice, Althea woke. "Where's my baby?" she asked, slowly opening her eyes. Althea blinked the grit from her blurry eyes as they adjusted to the early afternoon sun. "Where is she?" she asked, sitting up.

Remus carefully eased himself upon the bed. "She's with Gran," he said, and laughed quietly.

"What?"

"I helped—well, Gran forced me to help—with Prudence's first bath."

Althea smiled tiredly at Remus's proud expression. "If only she knew," she teased and winked.

"Shh, don't tell her," he replied with mock concern, looking around the room. "She might hex me out of the house."

"Oh, she only saves that for one special person," she replied, stretching her legs, but stopping as it hurt. "Did she start with the, 'I like you better than the other one,' routine?"

"Actually, she did," he answered, raising an eyebrow. "Does she use it often?"

"Of course," she said and sighed, bringing her heavy hand to the side of her face. "Is Sirius here yet?" she asked, absently rubbing her cheek.

Remus shook his head. "No, now rest," he said, patting her hand.

"You stayed here the entire time," she said, squeezing his hand. "Thank you."

Remus, his expression strained, forced a smile.

"What is wrong? Remus—"

"Get out!" Gran yelled. "Get out!"

Althea laughed. "I reckon the father's here," she said, smiling and sitting forward.

Remus, pale, leapt from the bed with wand at his side.

Althea frowned at him. "Remus, it's—"

"Ministry!" a man yelled and entered the bedroom.

Althea gasped.

"Let me handle this," Remus said quietly and stood. "This woman's just had a child. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Nope," the man said brusquely, walking past Remus and sitting in a chair next to bed. Taking out a quill and paper, he spoke, "Mr. Ness, ma'am, with Magical Law Enforcement. I need a statement from you."

"A statement? A statement about the attack?" she asked and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I'm ready to give it, sir. I'm not—"

"No, no," he replied, waving his hand. "A statement on one Sirius Black."

The blood drained from Althea's face and torso. "Sirius, is he all right?" she asked, looking at the man who did not seem to show her concern. "Is my Sirius okay? Is that why—Remus, what—"

"He's fine but those twelve Muggles aren't," the man quipped, resting his quill against the parchment.

"What—what are you talking about?" she asked—narrowing her eyes—looking from Remus to the man. "What twelve Muggles?"

The man rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed by Althea's ignorance. "Yesterday, Sirius Black killed twelve Muggles with a single curse," he answered flatly. "Now we need—"

"_WHAT_?" she shrieked, sitting up higher in bed. "No! You're mistaken," she said, vigorously shaking her head. "My Sirius wouldn't—_you're wrong_!"

Remus rushed to her side and placed his hands upon her shoulders. "Come on, Althea, rest."

"No!" she said, swatting Remus's hands away. "Sirius Black would _not_ harm Muggles—"

"Mr. Ness, can't you see this is upsetting her?"

"Absolute madness!" she breathed, her eyes wide.

"Please go—"

"He saved those Muggle children!" she said, slamming her hand upon the bed.

"—and you'll have your deposition later," Remus finished.

Ness vigorously shook his head. "No, sorry," he said, leaning back in the chair. "If I don't get it now, I will have take you both into my custody."

"You would put a woman who had just _given birth_ into custody?" he asked with an obvious tone of disgust. "_In Azkaban_?"

"No choice," Ness replied, taking the quill into his hand. "Now, what was your relationship to Black?"

Althea's mind swam in confusion. Sirius a murderer? Clearly, this man was mistaken. Not her Sirius. There had to be some other explanation, but how could she explain it? _What a horrible accusation to make against him_, she thought, sweeping the slightly mattered hair from her face. _It couldn't possibly be true. Somehow, his family found out about our baby. This is how they are punishing him—making up atrocious lies. This is only to scare me—they orchestrated this whole thing. Sirius will be here soon to take care of this_.

"Obviously, you should know—it's in your Ministry records."

"Althea, this isn't the time," Remus whispered.

Althea sighed and frowned. "We were married in a _Muggle_ ceremony," she said, hoping the man would realize the ridiculousness of the accusation. "Over a year ago."

The revelation did not discourage the man. "How long have you had a relationship with Black?"

"Off and on?"

The Official nodded.

"Off and on, five almost six years," she replied as she watched the man take notes.

"What did he do for a living?"

Althea shrugged. "Nothing," she answered and looked around the room. "This is sort of my house."

The man clicked his teeth and muttered, "Clever…clever."

"What?"

"Right, Miss Morrigan, where were you Halloween and yesterday?"

"I was here, of course."

"Was Black at your home as well on Halloween?"

"Yes."

"Did he leave at any point?"

"Yes, he went to—"

"Thank you, Miss Morrigan. Could you tell me—"

"No, let me finish," Althea said angrily, sitting up.

She did not like where the questioning was heading—he had to know the truth. Someone in the Ministry would find it convincing and would drop the accusations—she could not let his family win.

Remus attempted to hold her down. "No, I have to say this," she growled, pushing Remus away from her.

"Miss Morrigan it's not necessary—"

"_Yes, it is_!"

Ness let a condescending sigh escape. "Proceed."

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began, "I had asked him to take a letter to the Potters and after breakfast he left. He didn't return until seven-thirty that evening, but with good reason."

She opened her eyes and noticed the Ministry Official was not writing any of it on his parchment.

"Please write this down," she demanded, pointing to his parchment.

"Miss Morrigan, this isn't necessary," he explained, "and I doubt it will make any difference."

"It will make a difference for his trial," she replied and observed a smirk emerging across the Official's face. "He is getting a trial, isn't he?" she asked, looking at the Ness and then at Remus. "He's getting a trial?"

Remus shook his head. "No, Althea, he's already in Azkaban."

Althea sank against the pillows. "You knew?"

Remus refused to look at her. "You were in no condition—"

"You know it false, Remus," she said, grabbing his sleeve. "You know it isn't true!" she said, shaking his sleeve. "Sirius would never—"

"Finish your deposition," he said quietly, his eyes wet, "_please_."

Her eyes welled with tears and she shut them tightly, causing the tears to painfully press against her eyelids. _This cannot be happening; he deserves a trial. Even Death Eaters with damning evidence had trials. He can't go to Azkaban_, she thought, her stomach overcome with poppy juice and stress. Althea covered her mouth and winced as she forcefully swallowed the caustic, foul liquid.

"But why—why won't he have a trial?"

Ness laughed, but quickly stopped as Remus glared at him. "Miss Morrigan, the Ministry found Black—with his wand in his hand—in the middle of an exploded street with dead and dying Muggles all around him. The Muggle testimony alone was enough to convict him in any court."

If only she had her wand, she would have blasted that Ministry Official across the room! An exploded street? A natural gas line break. It had to have been a natural gas line break. At thirteen, when she was on holiday in America with her father, she remembered the article about the natural gas line break in the local Muggle newspaper. An entire residential street exploded and caught on fire. There was a leak in the line and a spark set off a chain reaction. Those pictures were graphic and terrifying—it had to have been the same thing. Sirius did not cause the explosion—anything could have caused the explosion.

"Eye witnesses get it wrong, you know," she continued heatedly. "Where are these eye witnesses?"

"Safe and their minds Obliviated," he replied, smiling.

His condescending smile sickened her. "How can you do this to him? He's innocent! You've given trials to people who have done worse! How convenient for you to Obliviate their minds! No problem of contradicting testimony!" she shouted, clutching the blankets and pretending the blankets were that man's neck.

"Althea, please, this isn't Muggle law," Remus whispered in her ear. "He'll throw you in Azkaban, too, if you're not careful. Remember your daughter."

Althea paled. "Fine," she whispered, scowling at the Official. "I'll finish with my statement. As I was saying, he was visiting his best friend for the last time—the last time before we went to Bermuda to go into hiding ourselves. He spent so much time at their home because Lily was sewing our daughter's name onto a baby blanket she made for her—_don't you dare think of interrupting me_! You can ask James and Lily yourself—they'll verify it," she continued and wondered why the Official had given her an odd look. Disregarding it, she continued, "He returned around seven-thirty, and we had a lovely evening together. When I woke, it was almost midnight and I went outside looking for him. He had gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone," she sighed with aggravation. "He left me, all right? Wizards leave their families everyday to protect them from," she continued and sighed as she said Voldemort's name, "You-know-who."

The Official sighed and rolled his eyes. "Miss Morrigan, after everything that has happened to you, you can't possibly believe that Black honestly cared for your well-being," Ness sneered, folding his parchment.

"Are you insinuating that he _left me to be tortured by those Death Eaters_?" she asked, lurching forward. "Look, he was screaming my name! I heard him! He'd returned to the cottage to find me! I heard him screaming my name when the Death Eaters tortured me!"

"Is there anyone to verify this?" the Official asked, raising an eyebrow.

Althea's stomach sank. "The Death Eaters that tortured me—"

"_Alleged_—"

Althea's eyes widened. "You will give them a trial?" she said, her voice waspish. "Sirius deserves—"

"Miss Morrigan—"

"_I_ heard him! Isn't that good enough?" she pleaded and covered her face with her hands. Remus wrapped his arms around her as she continued to cry in his lap.

"Obviously she's delirious," the Official snorted, directing his comment to Remus.

"_I'M NOT DELIRIOUS_!" she sobbed, pulling at Remus'a robes.

"I think it best you leave," Remus said, stroking Althea's back.

"I haven't finished my deposition—"

"I think it's best if you _leave_," he repeated heatedly. "She's been through enough! She doesn't need more."

"That's fine," the Official said shortly, standing. "I have one last question, though. Where is the child now?"

"Dead," Remus said angrily. "The child is dead—now leave this grieving mother alone!"

With a _pop_, the Ministry Official was gone. Breathing heavily, Althea slowly sat up. How? How could Sirius have done those things? How could he have murdered all those people? There had to have been some explanation. Maybe the eyewitnesses were mistaken. Maybe it was an accident. Natural gas had accumulated and a spark shot out from his wand, igniting the explosion. A cigarette could have caused the explosion, or igniting the pilot light on a stove. Maybe another witch or wizard was in the area and concocted an illegal potion in his or her flat. Some of the obscure, illegal potions were so dangerous, the slightest tremor caused a powerful explosion. Refined poppy juice, a highly addictive Wizarding drug, was one of those potions. Not only was it highly addictive, it was illegal and the process to refine it was highly dangerous. Explosions were common in the refined poppy juice trade, and medicinal poppy juice was strictly regulated. Moreover, she read in the Muggle newspaper that the Muggle government was having its own problems with dissenters. A group upset with the Muggle government could have caused the explosion in attempts to make new bombs. There were so many possibilities. It could not have been _her_ Sirius—her Sirius that was so gentle and loving—the father-to-be Sirius, the godfather to little Harry. He was a man that risked his life for Muggles. It was a mistake—a horrible mistake.

Althea took a deep breath and looked into Remus's eyes. "I'll fight for him, Remus. It's not fair they locked him up so quickly. He needs a trial. Bloody hell, if anyone would vouch for him it ought to be James."

Remus's faced paled. "Althea—"

"James must know immediately," she said and sniffed. "He'll right this—"

"Althea—"

"He'll—what Remus?"

"Althea," he said quietly, taking her hand—his eyes bright with tears. "Althea, James and Lily are dead."

"No, they're not," she snorted, pointing to the baby blanket next to her. "Lily is _not_ dead. I don't know what you're—"

"Althea, they're gone," he replied, looking into her eyes.

Althea saw the pain in his eyes and took a ragged breath.

"No, you're—"

Her eyes widened as Remus roughly wiped his eye. "They're—"

"Oh God!" she whispered, covering her mouth. "What…no…not my Lily!"

Remus nodded and she started to shake.

"But—but they were safe…Sirius said they were safe," she reassured, wrapping her arms around her trembling upper body.

Remus turned his face away, took a deep breath, and released it loudly. "Sirius was their Secret Keeper, Althea. Only Sirius could tell another person where James and Lily were hiding. Althea, Sirius told Voldemort."

"No!" she growled, slamming her fists against the mattress. "Voldemort? Sirius, tell _Voldemort_ where our best friends were hiding—not to mention his _godson_? No!"

"Althea," he said, resting his hands on her trembling shoulders. "Althea, _he_ was the _spy_. Peter caught him in the street full of Muggles to confront him. Sirius killed Peter and those twelve Muggles—"

"NO!" she shouted, hitting his arms away from her. "I will not have you say that about Sirius! It's mad—absolutely mad! He loved James! He loved Lily! He spent more time with Harry than he spent _with me_! He hated Voldemort! How many times has he risked his life for James? Why would he kill him?"

"Listen to me, _he was the spy_. I see it now—all of us see it now. He was getting information that none of us could get—"

"No," she growled.

"James trusted Sirius—we all trusted Sirius—but he betrayed them—"

"Maybe he did it because I was being tortured! I heard him calling for me! He sounded so frightened and upset!" She covered her face with her hands.

He loved James more than anything…more than her. The Potters had taken him in and given him a chance at a normal life. He proudly introduced Althea to them and they treated him as a son. He could not have been the spy. He was just as devastated as James when James's parents died. What could have changed? Althea suddenly gasped and felt the bile seep into the throat once more. No, no, he could not have done that. She shook her head and painfully swallowed. She had killed Lily and James. She had killed her best friend. He had promised he would never let anything happen to her—that he would protect her no matter what. Sirius had chosen her life, the life of their child, over his best friend. _Why would he think that okay_, she thought, clenching her teeth. _Knowing, that for the rest of my life, I will know the only reason I'm alive is due to the death of Lily and James_.

"He wasn't the spy—he traded my life for theirs," she said, new tears streaming down her face. "I killed Lily and James," she added and started to sob violently once more.

"_No_," he replied, resting his head atop hers—holding her tightly. "You did not kill Lily and James. They were already dead when you were tortured—they had died Halloween night."

"Harry!" she said frantically, grabbing his shoulders. "What happened to Harry? He's dead too?"

Remus pulled away from her and smiled sadly. "No, Harry is alive," he replied softly, smoothing the wet hair away from her face. "Somehow Harry survived Voldemort's curse, and in the process destroyed Voldemort. Voldemort is no more."

"No more," she breathed and Remus nodded. "My Harry? My little Harry _defeated_ Voldemort?" she said in amazement—a small smile emerging across her face. "How is that possible?"

Remus shrugged. "We don't know."

It was the second happy feeling she felt in two days. How could he, a baby, have defeated the most powerfully evil wizard of the century? New tears trickled down her face as she thought how proud Lily and James would have been. For years, the most powerful of wizards and witches had tried to defeat him, but it was little Harry that defeated him.

Althea roughly wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at Remus. "Where is he? I need to see him; he has no one—"

"You'll have to take that up with Dumbledore," he replied, squeezing her hand. "Oh, look who Gran has," he added, softly smiling.

Althea welcomed Gran's arrival into the room. _No more talk of this_, she thought as she sat back on the bed and opened her arms to receive her daughter. _I have to be strong and keep this out of my mind now for Harry and Prudence's sakes. I can't fall apart…my daughter needs me…Harry needs me. We are safe and that is all that matters now. My testimony will help Sirius. It will come right…and we'll be together_.

Althea's throat painfully tightened as she feigned a weak smile. "Look at you," she whispered, mustering every ounce of happiness, as Gran handed her the sleeping bundle. "You're all bathed and smell so lovely," she said softly and kissed her daughter's forehead.

Gazing at her daughter, the oppressive feelings of grief were temporarily overwhelmed by the feelings of love for the newborn. Prudence had just arrived in this world—it was a happy time and not one of sadness. Althea did her best busying herself by inspecting her tiny daughter. _I wanted to hold you for so long_, she thought, as Prudence opened her tiny pink mouth. _I thought I'd lost you_.

"Look at all that black curly hair, too," she said, stroking Prudence's soft, fine hair. "Oh, doing what you do best—kicking and punching—"

"Inherited from her mother, no doubt," he whispered as Prudence held onto his finger.

Althea laughed quietly. "Thank you," she replied and kissed his temple. "Thank you for staying with me."

"You're welcome," he answered, stroking Prudence's hand with his thumb.

"Why did you tell that man Prudence was dead?"

"Dumbledore has reason to believe that the remaining Death Eaters will be after your daughter," he explained and kissed Prudence's small, pink hand. "They want her—just like they want Harry."

"Oh my God," she breathed, looking at her daughter. "What would they—"

"Enough of this talk," Gran said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "This is Prudence's day"

"Indeed," she breathed, and kissed her daughter's cheek.

"So, you have named her Prudence…Prudence what?" she asked, looking at her great-granddaughter.

Althea noticed Gran's stern expression soften as she gazed at Prudence.

"I hadn't decided," she answered as she watched Prudence open and close her mouth.

"Rosemary," Gran replied resolutely.

"Rosemary?" she repeated, wrinkling her nose. "That's my middle name. I don't want to scold her with Rosemary."

"Rosemary is a fine name. It is our family name," Gran explained, stroking Prudence's hair. "It's tradition."

"Tradition?"

Gran nodded.

"A _Rynne_ tradition?"

Gran nodded.

Althea faintly smirked. "If it's tradition," she said and Gran nodded with approval. "Well, my little Prudence _Rosemary_, you're probably very hungry," she added and Prudence stuck out the tip of her tongue. "I'm sorry it's not the usual food you're accustomed to, but in time, you'll be eating that again."

"I think it's best you leave, Mr. Lupin," Gran said, resting her hand on his shoulder.

Althea smiled. _If only she knew she was touching a werewolf_, she thought as she slipped the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder.

"No, let him stay, Gran," she replied softly as Prudence started to nurse.

"Fine then," she replied, standing. "I'll never understand you, Althea Rosemary, you have absolutely no modesty."

"If you only knew, Gran," she sighed and winked at Remus.

Remus laughed. "So, she does call you Althea Rosemary," he said, diverting his eyes away from Althea and her nursing baby.

"Yeah," she replied, watching Prudence nurse. "You know, you don't have to act all modest—I don't care if you look. You were here for the most revealing aspect of labor and delivery," she added, smiling. "I can't believe you stayed."

"You wouldn't let go of my hand."

Althea laughed quietly. "I know what you're thinking: 'So that's what they're used for,'" she remarked. "Wait, that's probably what—never mind."

"No, I knew the functions of breasts," he replied with a wry smile.

"Of course, you did," she said and sighed, resting her head against the headboard. "I'm half expecting James and Lily to walk through that door with little Harry. Now I look at her, in my arms, and I cannot help but feel enormous happiness and enormous sadness…. I lost almost everything today and I've gained the one thing I've always wanted," she said, looking at Prudence's thick black lashes—lashes she knew that would harbor her father's eyes. "What are we supposed to do now? Where are we supposed to go?"

"Don't think about that now," he replied softly, stroking stray hairs out of Althea's face. "Just concentrate on this little life before you that probably needs a good burping."


	48. The Cottage, December 1981

**The Cottage, December 1981**

"He _needs_ Mr. Bunny Bun-bun," Althea muttered, sitting over the opened package. "He won't be able to sleep without Mr. Bunny Bun-bun," she added, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He needs Mr. Bunny Bun-bun!" she sobbed, throwing her head on her knees.

"Althea…Althea," Remus said gently, resting his hand on her shaking shoulder.

_How could Petunia send this package back to me_, she thought, as she pounded her fists against her shins. _What sort of cruel woman is she to return Harry's favorite toy_? Petunia did not understand—Harry _needed_ Mr. Bunny Bun-bun. Mr. Bunny Bun-bun was his favorite out of all his countless stuffed animals. He would cry if Lily did not place Mr. Bunny Bun-bun next to him in his cot at night. Who would sing him the Mr. Bunny Bun-bun song before he went to bed? What was Dumbledore thinking sending Harry to Petunia? Petunia did not know the Mr. Bunny Bun-bun song. Althea knew what was best for Harry, and Petunia, Petunia would ruin him. She would keep Lily and James's memory alive, not squash it as Petunia and her dull husband would.

Althea sat up and roughly rubbed her eyes. "I'll go there myself," she said, taking the stuffed toy in her hands. "That way I'll make sure he has Mr. Bunny Bun-bun."

"No, you can't go there," reminded Remus, resting his hand on her forearm. "Remember what Dumbledore said."

"Oh, I remember what Dumbledore said—what everyone said," she replied, her fingers squeezing the stuffed rabbit. "I couldn't go to their funerals. No, you and everyone else kept me here so I wouldn't go. Why? I knew there would be whispers. 'Look at her, she's the reason Lily and James are dead. What is _she_ doing here? How could they let her come?' But all of you kept me here. Kept me here for what? For my own good?" she said and laughed bitterly. Sighing sadly, she rested her chin on her knees. "I didn't say goodbye, Remus. I didn't have a chance to tell her that I'm sorry."

"Althea," he replied softly, stroking her forearm.

"No," she said, wiping her eyes. "He's probably so frightened and upset and he doesn't have his Mr. Bunny Bun-bun," she said, staring at the blue stuffed rabbit with the yellow bowtie, which rested against the opened package. Looking up, she turned toward Remus, who sat with her on the sitting room floor. "How? How could she send this package back?"

"She must have her reasons," he replied, rubbing her back. "She's probably following Dumbledore's orders."

"Dumbledore's orders!" she growled, slamming her fists into the thick rug. "Don't see Harry. Don't leave the cottage. Give up Prudence to that bloody Muggle couple!" she spat bitterly, looking angrily ahead of her. "Why—why would he want to take everything from me?" she asked and threw her head to her knees once more. Screaming, she pulled at her unkempt hair and threw herself back against the sitting room floor—her head violently slamming against the floor. Althea blinked her eyes as she realized the pain surging through the back of her head. Staring at the ceiling, she quietly continued, "When I lose Prudence…I have nothing."

"Althea," Remus whispered, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was shaking his head.

"It's true, Remus, I will have nothing," she replied matter-of-factly. "We tried…. Dumbledore was so against our idea…. I can't lose my baby—I just can't," she said and sighed sorrowfully. "Look at me," she continued, rubbing her forehead. "I'm an absolute mess. I haven't bathed in three days—_three days_, Remus. When did you ever know me not to bathe? I can't stay in here anymore. Everywhere I look, I'm reminded—reminded of him, of Lily and James, of that horrible night. I need a new start with her, somewhere far away from this place," she finished and sat up. "I'll go to Bermuda, to London, to Halifax, anywhere."

Remus moved closer to her and ran his fingers through his own slightly unkempt hair—the past month had not been so well for him either. "I agree with you, you need to leave this house, but Dumbledore might be right about Prudence," he began and Althea opened her mouth to protest. "No, let me explain. As long as Prudence lives with you, your lives are in danger. Eventually, those in league with Voldemort will discover that she lived. They'll come after you. If they see you without a baby, you both might have that chance," he finished, stroking the untidy hair from her eyes.

Althea smirked bitterly. "It's so easy to say, isn't it? You'll never know what it's like to carry someone for nine months and then give birth to her. All that time, excited about a child you will get to see experience the world in a completely different way than you did…. More than anything, I want her to be safe, but how are we to know she will be safer there? I have magic, Remus…the Parkers don't. What if Voldemort's supporters find her there? At least she has a chance with me."

Remus frowned. "Althea, you might not be alive to give her that chance."

Rage erupted in Althea. _It's Sirius's fault, it's all his damn fault_, she thought, clenching her jaw. _It would have been better if we died. Keeping me alive…now, I have to go through this? Thank you, Sirius, for giving us life, for making Harry an orphan, and for taking Prudence away from me. At least you think we're dead—Gran made sure of that, visiting you two weeks ago and shouting at you how horrible you are_.

"Damn it! How could he do this to us?" she growled, pounding her fists against the floor. "I don't care—I want to see him. I want to tell him what an awful man he is…letting me live. I don't care what you say, it's my fault Lily and James are dead. It's my fault Harry lives with Petunia. It's my fault for not leaving him before any of this happened," she finished, running her fingers through her unkempt hair.

Remus sighed sadly. "Althea, he wanted you dead. He wanted Prudence dead. Once a wizard turns to the Dark Side, he doesn't care about his family or friends. He cares about power," he explained earnestly, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"How can you believe it so easily?" she asked, looking into his pale eyes.

Remus did not reply.

"How can you believe the Sirius we knew is the cold-hearted, power-hungry, evil man that willfully betrayed our friends?"

"Althea, he blew Peter apart…I saw the finger."

"Why Peter? I don't understand," she said and shook her head. "What was Sirius trying to do? Was he trying to kill all of us off?"

"Possibly," he sighed, frowning. "Getting rid of his old life and starting a new one with Voldemort."

"So that's it then? All that time…lying to me…lying to me when we…" she replied, but trailed off as she buried her face in Remus's shoulder.

Remus held her close to him and let her cry. _Isn't he going to say anything_, she thought as she attempted to stop her crying, but failed miserably. Althea continued to cry and wondered how Remus could stay so calm, so strong. _I'm falling apart and he's so calm_, she thought, holding him tighter. _He's looked after me this entire time—has he had time to grieve_?

Althea sniffed back her tears and sighed into Remus's worn robes. "Look at us," she whispered, "I'm a mess and you're—you're having to care for me, suspending your own life. I'm so sorry."

Remus held her tightly to him. "Don't you think that for one minute," he replied, resting his head atop hers. "It's not like I have a job or anything."

Althea laughed quietly. "Right," she murmured, lifting her head from his shoulder. "You have to look for a job now, since the war is over."

"Well, it's not totally over," he explained, handing her a handkerchief. "There are still Death Eaters out there that need to be caught."

Althea wiped her eyes. "Are you going to help catch them?" she asked, folding the handkerchief.

"No, that's left up to the Aurors now. The work of the Order is done," he said, standing. "Come on," he added, offering his hands for her to stand. "You take as long as you need for a nice, long bath, and I'll watch Prudence."

"Right," she sighed as she stood. "You'll have an easy time watching her though, she's only sleeping."

"No matter," he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Now go, take your bath."

Althea placed her fingers under the tap, letting the water run between her fingers until she found the right temperature. How had she let herself go? Three days without a bath, and she only took the last bath when Gran threw her into it. Gradually, she lowered herself into the warm water and sighed as the water lapped against her body. It had only been a month since Prudence's birth and her body had slowly begun to return to its former shape before pregnancy. The scars from the Cruciatus Curse on her side would stay with her forever though—curses like that are not easily covered with a simple spell. Her breasts, swollen with milk, still took time to grow accustomed to, and she laughed in spite of herself when she thought Sirius would find her enlarged breasts amusing. _He'd probably be trying to poke them constantly_, she thought, smiling to herself. She imagined Sirius sitting closely to her as she fed Prudence, wondering how such things worked and continuously asking her questions about breastfeeding.

Resting her arms on the sides of the bathtub, she remembered how inquisitive he was during her pregnancy. He would ask her the most specific and sometimes, bizarre, questions about her pregnancy. _Was it all an act_, she thought, _did he want us dead_? When she returned to the cottage, she searched it twice, looking for the goodbye letter he wrote. Maybe it would give her the answers she needed to explain the events of Halloween and the day after; however, in her searching, she never found that letter—that letter, which detailed his reasons for why he left her and their daughter. The lack of a letter made the Sirius as Death Eater a more plausible alternative.

Voldemort's supporters had approached Sirius, not just the one time she knew about, but also multiple times she later discovered from her talk with Dumbledore. The supporters wanted him; Voldemort wanted him, or rather, his name. A Black not in league with Voldemort? Unbelievable, but she had believed it—James had believed it. How could she not have known? Faced with her death, he must have made a deal with Voldemort. A part of her understood why Harry could not live with her—he could not live with the woman that brought about his parents' deaths.

"They would have killed me anyway, Sirius," she sighed, briefly closing her eyes.

Althea sank lower into the warm bath. Her eyes drifted to the cupboard underneath the sink, which housed the latest contraband magazine article about Sirius. She could read about the woman in Chelsea that claimed to have spent the night with Sirius before he killed Peter and the Muggles. _He was fantastic, but two places at once—that's bloody unreal_, she thought and laughed. Thankfully, left alone by the papers and magazines, Althea went about her days unnoticed—except by those that cared for her. Remus and Gran tried their best to hide magazines and newspapers from her, but she found them—just where she found her deposition about the whereabouts of Sirius—in the dustbin. Women, from all corners of Wizarding Britain, had come forth to tell their sorrowful tales of their tragic love affairs with Sirius. Tragic love affairs, which rendered the women heartbroken and knowing that something, something was amiss with him and now they knew why. _I wonder if he left them with something besides heartache_, she thought, dunking her head under the warm water. With slightly bitter amusement, she wondered how many black-haired, grey-eyed, bastard children there would be in Prudence's Hogwarts class. _At least they'd get to keep their children_, she thought darkly, taking a large breath as she surfaced.

The whole situation was a circus and a mockery—a mockery of three dear friends she lost. She was not particularly close to Peter, but he was a friend. He was dependable, kind, and the two had sat together in a café on a few occasions. Lacking the confidence of Sirius and James, surprisingly, he was quickly moving up the ranks in his low-level Ministry job in the Department of Magical Transport. _What was he thinking, cornering Sirius in the street like that_, she thought, running her hands through her wet hair. _Sirius is a better dueler—I know that from experience. However, if I knew what he had done at the time, it would have been me cornering him in the street…. I wouldn't have used a wand either, I would have used one of my Grand's rifles_. Althea smiled wickedly at the thought of shooting Sirius in the head with one of Grand's rifles.

"God, what James must have been thinking," she muttered, shaking her head.

No, no, she had to think of something else. She did not want to end up where she was last week—screaming and crying in the middle of her yard, during a thunderstorm, praying for lightening to strike her. She had gone insane then, and now she had to take her mind away from those things that led her to the point of breakdown. She had a daughter to take care of and Prudence needed her at her best. Althea sat up as she heard Prudence cry; however, she heard the gentle voice of Remus ask what was wrong and the crying ceased. _Is that Remus singing_, she thought smiling and listening intently. Althea wished she could leave him with Prudence longer, but she noticed her hands had begun to prune. _I think I'll take a while to dress_, she thought, stepping out of the tub and wrapping a towel around her.

After slowly dressing, drying her hair, and applying make up for the first time in days, she walked toward Prudence's nursery. She smiled as she entered, for she found Remus asleep in the rocking chair, holding a sleeping Prudence. _He's so exhausted_, she thought, looking at the sleeping pair. _He had no one this last transformation_. Careful not to wake her, she picked up Prudence and gently placed her in her cot, covering her with the blanket Lily had made. _She is absolutely beautiful_, she thought, gazing at her sleeping daughter. As her daughter grew, her features became more distinguishable. She had Althea's hair, nose, and face shape, but she had Sirius's eyes, eyebrows, and mouth. She was not able to determine Prudence's ears, but it was probably a combination of the two. Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of sadness enveloped her. _As she grows I will be able to see more of Sirius's features in her_, she thought, stroking her daughter's cheek. _God, how will I be able to tell her who her father is and what he did? She'll know, she'll find out somehow, but will Harry know? God, I'd never want there to be any hatred between our children—that's not what we wanted at all. I'm sorry, Harry, but I can never look after you like you need me to…maybe it's best if I never see you again_.

"Oh, Althea, you're done?" Remus whispered sleepily.

Althea turned around and smiled. "She fell asleep. You know, you should sing more often," she whispered, walking to the rocking chair.

Remus smiled tiredly.

"Now, you need some rest. Here, sleep in my bed," she added, pointing to the bed she had brought into the nursery. Since returning to the cottage, she had not been able to sleep in the bed she shared with Sirius.

"No, no," he yawned, stretching his legs forward. "I'll be all right. I have to leave," he added, standing.

"You're not going anywhere, you're too tired," she replied, steering him toward the bed. "Please stay."

"I reckon I could sleep for awhile," he replied, eyeing the bed.

"Good," she whispered and smiled. "Pleasant dreams."

"Thanks," he whispered as he pulled the bedclothes back from the bed.

Quietly closing the door, she wondered what she would do next. _I suppose I could read that magazine article about the woman in Chelsea_, she thought, walking toward the bathroom. Grabbing the magazine, she walked back to the drawing room and sat on the sofa. Her name was Linda Pringles, a twenty-seven-year-old witch that lived in Chelsea. She was a local barmaid at the Zodiac Tavern, who had met Sirius that night. He had flirted with her, bought her a few drinks, and the two headed upstairs to her flat above the tavern. She could prove her meeting with Sirius by remembering certain significant marks on his body.

"What could these significant marks be?" she asked herself and bit her lip to keep from laughing. "A mole on his chest? He doesn't have a mole on his chest," she said dismissively. "He has a mole two inches below his bellybutton, _and_ he doesn't have a tattoo of a snake on his bicep—he has a tattoo of a crescent moon on his right shoulder blade," she said and made a face as she continued to read. "Of course, you're not going to bloody Azkaban to verify."

_Bloody hell, maybe I should write an article_, she thought, throwing the magazine onto the floor. _At least it would be truthful, then. Let's see, Sirius hates porridge, the word no, and waiting…for anything. He loves sweets, motorbikes, Butterbeer, and sex. He has a habit of biting the inside of his cheek when he's angry, and when he's happy, he whistles, hums, or sings to himself_.

"Oh, that would sell loads," she said and sighed, lying back on the sofa. "Unfortunately for them, I'll never write it."

Suddenly, she heard someone furiously knocking at her front door. _Who could this be_, she thought, puzzled, as she stood and walked toward the door. Althea looked through the peephole and gasped.

"What is _she_ doing here?" she whispered—her eyes widening. Taking a deep breath to regain her composure, she opened the door. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Black."

Mrs. Black looked much older than when Althea saw her last. Her graying hair framed her sallow skin and her elegant black robes hung upon her thin frame. Still, she was impeccably dressed and the clasp that held her cloak was made of the finest goblin silver, no doubt. She eyed Althea with an air of disdain and, for the first time, Althea realized Sirius inherited that look from his mother.

"Please, won't you come in?"

Althea watched, partially open-mouthed, as Mrs. Black entered her cottage.

"So, he lived here with you, then," she said curtly, turning her nose up at the modest cottage.

"Yes," she replied as she closed the door. "Please, have a seat," she said, offering the sofa.

Mrs. Black frowned as she looked at the sofa. "I'd rather stand," she sneered, folding her arms.

"Well, then," Althea replied quickly. "May I ask why you're here, then? I know this isn't a pleasant visit."

"Where is she?" she asked, looking around the drawing room.

"Where's who? Gran?" she asked and raised an eyebrow. "Come for tea?"

"No, _her_," Mrs. Black said and shoved a letter in Althea's hand.

Puzzled, she opened the letter, and staring back at her was a picture taken in her seventh month—waving and smiling as Sirius sat behind her, with his arms around her and her stomach. _You'd teased that you'd send her a photograph_, she thought, refolding the letter. _I can't believe you actually did it_. Sirius in the photograph nuzzled Althea's cheek. How could one fake such happiness?

"You mean our daughter—"

Mrs. Black winced.

"She's dead," she said and handed the letter back to Mrs. Black. "Your dear disinherited son sought about that."

"Dead? I don't believe you. How?"

"I don't want to go into specifics, but I was tortured by Death Eaters and she was born a day later, stillborn," she explained, folding her arms.

A small perceptible something—something Althea could not figure out—flickered across Mrs. Black's face.

"Now, you don't have to worry about anyone else attempting to claim your precious fortune—"

Althea paused, aware of the imperceptible cracks in Mrs. Black's coolness that betrayed her true sadness. Her eyes narrowed, realizing Mrs. Black's true motives. _Regulus dead, Sirius in Azkaban, and Prudence is all your lot has…funny about that_.

"You're not worried about your fortune, are you?"

Mrs. Black did not respond.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you that any joyful meeting with your granddaughter will never happen because _she's dead_."

Mrs. Black sneered at Althea. "How do I know she was even his?" she questioned, stepping forward.

Althea did not back away. "Oh, she _was_ his," she replied with a small smile, "and you didn't want to die a lonely, old woman."

Mrs. Black narrowed her eyes. "Insolent girl—"

"You chucked a bag of Galleons at my feet, you've tried to have my wand broken, threatened me with Azkaban, and dissolved our marriage," she said, suppressing the urge to raise her voice as not to wake Prudence. "You have never shown me kindness."

Mrs. Black's thin nostrils flared.

"Your eldest son ran away and your spare probably killed himself because he was sick of you."

Mrs. Black held her wand at Althea's chest. Althea did not falter.

"Maybe if you spent more time with your son, you'd never be in this mess, would you?" she remarked, and realized every word she spoke registered on Mrs. Black's face. "Lost both your sons…could have had a lovely daughter-in-law to care for you in your old age…a couple of grandchildren."

"That blood traitor ruined it of his own accord," she said, her lips thinned.

"Reckon you're _so proud_, too," she said as Mrs. Black quickly retracted her wand.

"He never cared for anything but his own pleasure," she said, slipping her wand into her robe pocket. "You are keenly aware of that."

It was Althea who took a step forward. "You ruined it for yourself, you know. The Black name will die with you, and you can do nothing about it."

Prudence's loud, hungry cry could be heard from the nursery. Althea's stomach somersaulted as Mrs. Black's expression transformed into one of satisfaction.

"What was that?" Mrs. Black asked with a triumphant smile.

"What's what?"

"That noise," she said and pretended to strain to listen as Prudence cried. "It sounds of a baby's cry."

"The telly."

"Likely," she muttered, stepping forward.

Althea held up her hand to stop her. "Don't—don't—"

"Do not order me," she said, pulling her cloak from Althea's grip. "Show me her."

Althea cringed as the nursery door opened and Remus stepped out, holding Prudence. "Althea, I think she's—oh—"

Remus stopped in the nursery doorway and gulped. He held Prudence closely to him.

"Not the half-breed."

Althea quickly walked ahead of Mrs. Black and grabbed Prudence away from Remus. _Prudence, why did you have to cry_, she thought, as Prudence sucked on her robes. _Oh, my little one, we almost had her fooled. Now she knows about you, and I don't know what she is capable of—damn it_!

"I'll have you respect my friends as long as you're in my home," she said as Remus rested his hand upon her back.

"I'll make this visit brief, then," she replied, attempting to hide her curiosity of the infant. "Let me see her."

"What?" she laughed, holding Prudence closer to her.

"Yes," she replied curtly, peering at the baby, "show her to me."

Althea motioned with her eyes for Remus to watch Mrs. Black, and he did—standing behind Mrs. Black as she moved forward. Althea positioned Prudence so Mrs. Black could see her, and waited for Mrs. Black's response. Mrs. Black looked at Prudence and wrinkled her nose.

"She has his father's eyes and his father's mouth," she replied as Prudence kept her focus upon her mother. "Let me hold her," she said, holding out her arms for Althea to place Prudence.

Althea quizzically looked at Mrs. Black. "You're joking, right?"

"According to that blood traitor, I do not have a sense of humor," she said, her arms still outstretched. "Give her to me."

Althea raised an eyebrow and looked at Remus, who looked as completely confused as she did. Remus shook his head.

"I can't do that—"

"I am her grandmother and you will offer me this courtesy," she said and lifted her arms once more.

Althea blinked. Grandmother? Timidly, she handed Prudence over to Mrs. Black much to Remus' silent protests. Mrs. Black first held her with some awkwardness, but grew accustomed to the wiggling baby. Althea caught her breath as Mrs. Black touched Prudence's cheek. The tender act unnerved Althea as Mrs. Black continued to hold her grandchild. Did she truly care for Prudence? Mrs. Black nodded to herself as she looked upon Prudence and her cool demeanor had warmed.

"May I?"

Mrs. Black nodded.

Althea quickly retrieved her daughter from Mrs. Black.

"What is her name?" she asked, straightening her sleeves.

"Prudence," she replied, allowing Prudence tiny hand to grasp her pinky finger.

"So…Muggle," she sneered as though the word tasted bitter on her tongue. "Ariadne is more suitable—"

"Ariadne?" she laughed and made a face. "Prudence Rosemary is a fine name," she added, smiling as Prudence started to make sucking noises. "Beautiful."

"The _Rynne_ influence," she murmured with contempt. "Never mind, I will call her Ariadne."

Althea, puzzled, raised an eyebrow.

"My grandmother's name. Sirius was fond of her," she said, nodding toward Prudence. "I will return for her things."

Althea held Prudence tighter as Prudence's hands clung to her robes. "What do you mean 'return for her things'?" she asked, stepping away from Mrs. Black.

Mrs. Black frowned. "Must I spell it out for you?" she whispered, her thin fingers massaged her temple. "This brings me no pleasure, I can assure you. I'd hoped and searched that Regulus but he was such a good boy—"

Althea let out an inappropriate laugh.

Mrs. Black let her hand fall to her side and Althea quieted at her weary look. She inhaled a quiet, ragged breath and spoke, "I'm dying."

Althea's eyes widened slightly.

"As a Black, I can give her what you cannot…protect her if need be," she said, her eyes focused upon Prudence. "She will be well provided for—"

"No—"

"She will live with me. Now, I dare say it won't take you long to pack her things," she said, and looked around the cottage with contempt. "So, you will have optimum time to say your goodbyes."

"She will not!" she said as Remus stepped to Althea's side.

Mrs. Black sighed with great annoyance. "You are an unfit mother, and no matter how much I despise you and that blood traitor, she's still a Black; therefore, she belongs with me," she explained and reached for the door.

"No, she isn't!" Althea replied heatedly. "She doesn't carry his name—you made sure of that—and he's not on her birth certificate," she explained as Remus rested his hand on her shoulder. "You have no proof!"

Mrs. Black laughed as she turned the doorknob. "Do you _really_ believe that would stop _me_?" she asked with the utmost condescension as she opened the door. "You're nothing but a Muckblood—"

"Your son is a murderer!"

Mrs. Black laughed cruelly. "You foolish girl."

Althea's body started to tremble. "Birth certificates are magically binding…it's impossible to alter them," she said as Remus squeezed her shoulder. "He has no claim to her, and neither do you! You're mad!"

"I'll return shortly," she replied, ignoring Althea. "I will leave my house-elf to look after her until I return."

"You will certainly not!"

"Kreacher!"

Suddenly, that odious house-elf appeared and bowed low to his mistress.

"Tend to Ariadne, will you."

The house-elf bowed lower to the ground. "Yes, my mistress."

Althea swallowed as she looked from the hateful house-elf to Mrs. Black as she closed the door. Her body still trembled—Dumbledore was correct. It was not an unnamed spy that betrayed her; it was Sirius. Sirius had written a letter to his mother and had sent a photograph. Did he send that information out of spite before the incident on Halloween? He had joked about sending a baby photograph in hope that it would kill her. Althea lowered her head and looked at Prudence. Had he sent it out of spite or out of something more malicious? _He wanted us dead_, she thought, stroking Prudence's soft curls. _Did he return to his family? Is that why he sent the letter…just in case I escaped? No, I don't believe it. I can't_...

"She can't take her," she said quietly. "She has no right to her."

Althea eyed the house-elf warily as it studied the mother and baby. _If that elf tries to touch my daughter I will not hesitate to deliver his head back to Mrs. Black for more wall decoration_, she thought and kissed her daughter's forehead.

Remus sighed. "Legally no, but it wouldn't stop her," he replied, stroking her back. "She's done everything to ruin you and Sirius. He promised me not to tell you, but I don't care anymore. His family," he began and furrowed his eyebrows, "barred him from any sort of Ministry job. Outstanding on all his O.W.L.s and passed every N.E.W.T., but it didn't matter. His application was rejected for every department he applied for…even the Centaur Liaison Office." Remus's face shifted into a peculiar expression. "He had nothing but the Order," he murmured and frowned.

"I don't believe this," she whispered, smoothing Prudence's pink dress. "She can't—"

Remus kissed Althea's temple. "Dumbledore," he said, barely audible.


	49. Carpathian Mountains, Late January 1982

**Carpathian Mountains, Late January 1982**

The ride through the forest was a pleasant, but cold one. Newly fallen snow covered the banks on each side of the dirt and snow covered path. The trees glistened bright white in the moonlight, and to Althea, this was a most beautiful sight. However, with each gust of wind, the snow from the trees blew into Althea's face, temporarily blinding her. Clutching her bag tightly, she wondered if the pass ahead was passable, but she had to try—that child was sick with fever.

In late December, she had left England and joined the Foreign Relief Healer Program, giving her help to those in the remotest villages of Transylvania. Most in the Wizarding world chose to stay away from this area due to unfounded stories of an abundance of Dark creatures—she had yet to meet a Rusalka or a vampire on any of her journeys. _When will people see how ridiculous their prejudices are_, she thought, _this land is absolutely beautiful—well, except for this snow_ .

Frowning, she realized that the snow was not from the trees, but from the sky. It seemed that with each mile, the snow fell with greater intensity, and her apprehension about her riding ability increased. _We're almost there_, she thought, patting the side of her horse's neck. It was dangerous, and in this weather impossible, to Apparate in this area. The howling of the ghostly wind frightened her and her horse, and for a brief moment, she lost control of him. She struggled to regain control of her horse, but to no avail—the horse threw her from the saddle onto the powdery drifts below. Landing with her arms to brace herself, the snow stung her hands and wrists—this pleasant snow had now become a menace. She murderously glared at her horse, which was looking ahead in the road as if nothing happened. With awkward movements, Althea raised herself out of the snow, and lumbered back toward her waiting horse.

"Bugger all," Althea murmured as she ascended her horse. "You don't care about this bloody snow, do you, now?" she sneered as she encouraged her horse forward.

_How much longer until I reach this cottage_, she thought, peering into the darkness. Taking out her wand, she held it out before her and frowned at what she saw. Large piles of snow, rocks, and broken trees blocked the road—an avalanche had occurred.

"Damn it!" she growled, rubbing her cold forehead.

There was no way she could travel around the blocked pass—on either side of her were thick groves of trees and cliffs unsteady for climbing—she had to turn back. Reluctantly, she turned her horse around to return to her village. She thought of flying, but it was too dangerous in this weather—too easy to be thrown off course. She had to return to her village or settle somewhere to wait out the storm. The storm picked up with intensity, and it amazed her that she had not seen a cottage or an inn where she could ask to stay the night. Surely, someone must have a home or an inn on this lonely road, but nothing was there as she looked with tired eyes down the never-ending path. The snow became so treacherous that she could not go on. Her aching body coaxed her to stop, but her tiring mind reminded her that if she stopped it would be death. _But would not death be better_, she thought, slowly losing grip of the rein. Death would be better, for the adoption of Prudence was fresh in her memory. She truly had nothing to live for and each child she tended to had reminded her of Prudence. She would be in her third month now, probably napping in her cot or nursing on the bottle Mrs. Parker had prepared for her. Althea wondered, would Prudence remember her at all? Would she know something was wrong—that Mrs. Parker was not her mother? She hardly had time with Prudence; of course, Prudence would not remember Althea as her mother. However, deeply she wished it; that she had left some tangible memory of herself in her daughter's memory. _I abandoned her just like my mother_, she thought, _except I'm still alive_.

Suddenly she heard a painful howling noise, which immediately brought her to attention, but it did not sound like the ghostly, sorrowful, howling wind she was accustomed to in this mountainous area. This howl was more human than animal. _What was that noise_, she thought, as she sat up higher in the saddle, scanning the darkness with her wand. A rush of what seemed like wind came down upon her and knocked her off her horse and unto to the snowy ground. Dazed, she looked up to see what had happened, but all she saw were shadows, then something thick and heavy come toward her. Althea lay still against the snow—her head dizzy and her body unable to move.

* * *

Althea woke, but refused to open her eyes. Wherever she was, it was warm, and for a moment, she wondered if she were dead, but heard the crackling of a fire to her left and realized she was alive. _Damn it, if only I'd been left to die_, she thought, inhaling deeply the strange spicy smells and the smell of tanned animal skins that filled the room. As she opened her eyes, she realized she was probably safe, but sore, and in some sort of hut. Wild animal skins and richly colored fabrics hung from the wooden, mud-covered walls. Althea turned her eyes to her left and noticed a brown-haired woman sitting next to her, holding a bowl of water and a cloth. She was middle-aged, with thin lines around her mouth and eyes. She was dressed in a thickly woven woolen tunic with various symbols embroidered around the collar and wrists.

"Drink," she spoke, raising the damp cloth to Althea's lips.

Althea turned her head and refused the cloth. "You should have let me die," she said in a frail voice that frightened her.

"No," she whispered, bringing the damp cloth to her lips.

Althea shifted, trying not to drink the water from the cloth, but she shuddered from the surging pain she felt throughout her body. Reluctantly, she sucked on the cloth—the cool water felt good against her dry, cracked lips. The woman brought the bowl to Althea's lips and she greedily drank the water. She let out a cough and wiped her chapped lips with her forearm. Covering her face with her hands, she gingerly moved her fingers over the bandage that covered her head, and a torrent of pain shot through her skull. She winced at the searing pain, and the woman pulled Althea's hands away from her face.

"Don't try to move," the woman said, and reached for a bowl of something that looked like porridge. "Eat this."

Althea did not take her eyes off the woman as she opened her mouth to take in the grey porridge. Surprisingly, the porridge tasted good as it slid to the back of her throat, and as she greedily ate, she felt her strength returning. As she lifted the spoon to her lips, rapid thoughts flooded Althea's mind. Where was she? Was she close to the road? Maybe she was in the village of the young boy, but how did she get there if the road was impassable? What exactly happened to her on the road? What was that creature? Who or what caused her to fall off her horse? More importantly, _how_ did this woman find her?

"What happened to me? How did you find me? Who are you? Where am I?"

The woman softly smiled at Althea. "You met with an elemental," she answered as Althea frowned in confusion.

An elemental—what sort of magical creature was that? She winced as she screwed her eyes up in thought. Had it had been a full moon?

Noticing Althea's confusion, she explained, "It is a kind of malevolent being that attaches itself to a place and attacks lonely travelers." The woman handed the empty bowls to a young woman who had entered the hut. "It was Eszter who found you on the road," she added, motioning with her hand to the young woman.

The young woman shyly smiled and nodded her head. "I heard the elemental's howl and knew someone had been attacked. I found you, alerted my mother, and brought you here," she said, walking toward the hut door.

"Thank you," Althea replied, "but who are—"

"I'd thought you'd know who I am, since you have the mark of the shamaness," the woman interrupted, pointing to Althea's small, black tattoo of a raven on her wrist. "I am Miriam."

Althea quickly tried to cover her wrist. "Shamaness?" she asked, baffled.

Shamaness? She was a witch, but not a shamaness. Shamanesses were women in Muggle fantasy books that spoke of doom and jingled their jewelry about. Althea was not a shamaness. She quickly glanced at her wrist. It was a mark she never wanted, and spent the earlier part of her life fiercely covering it. How can one explain a tattoo on an eleven-year-old? At first, she explained to her friends that she had drawn it on herself; however, the students quickly exposed that lie. To recover, she invented the story that she received the tattoo during a trip to some remote area of the rainforest as her father researched Mayan sacrificial rituals. All the children had them there—she went along with it. Surprisingly, that story was believed and no one bothered her further about it; however, the mark bothered her as she now understood its full meaning—why would her father think it suitable for such a young girl? Did he not care of the consequence? What if she had become scared in class and transformed? Or during a busy time in Diagon Alley? Dumbledore might have been lenient, but the Ministry—the Ministry would have arrested her for performing an illegal Animagus transformation. By giving her the ingredients, Sirius had alleviated her fears by allowing her the choice to transform.

Miriam moved from the bed over to the fire. She picked up the poker and began to stoke the fire. "Yes, a shamaness. I never forget a face, Althea, even though you are much older. Your father brought you to us for protection. I was the one who gave you that mark," she explained and placed the poker next to the fire.

Althea shook her head. How could this woman remember or know her name? _She must have searched through my things to see who I am_, she thought, gazing at her reddened fingers recovering from frostbite. This could not have been the village her father wrote about in his travel journal. She was nowhere near that area, or at least she did not think she was near that area. She was not sure where she was. Miriam—the name sounded familiar and it could have been the name written in the journal, but she had not read that journal in years.

Miriam noticed Althea's puzzlement. "Maybe this will help you remember. Here, look into the fire."

Althea gazed into the fire as Miriam—from a drawstring purse around her waist—took a handful of blue powder, and threw it into the fire. The warm reds and oranges of the fire slowly transformed to purple, and blue sparks streaked from the center of the purple flame. Althea looked closer into the fire, and she realized that the fire had consumed her—the cool blue light surrounded her and pulled her forward. With an abrupt jolt she stopped, and was back in the same hut, but before her were her father, Marie, a younger version of Miriam, and her five-year-old self. She watched as her father told her that this would protect her and not to be afraid. Then, a young Althea timidly handed out her arm to Miriam, and winced as she tattooed the bird onto her wrist. Miriam began to speak in an ancient language that the older Althea had never heard of and the raven glowed red and then faded to black. Abruptly, Althea felt a rush of wind around her and the vision of her past faded in the flames.

"You—you gave me this," Althea said quietly, rubbing the raven tattoo.

Miriam walked toward Althea's bedside. "Yes, I knew this would protect you," she replied, touching the tattoo with her index finger. "Normally, I do not perform that ritual upon strangers—of course, we don't have many strangers," she said, patting Althea's arm. "However, your father explained to me your case and I agreed. I, like your father, understood the dangers that were coming," she explained, straightening out one of the many blankets draped over Althea. "Thankfully, we mostly avoided what had come…our protection had saved us. We are all that is left—this tiny village," she said sadly, motioning with her head to the doorway. "The village you had seen as a child is no more. When you saw us, we numbered one hundred, now—now we number fifteen," she explained, and propped pillows underneath Althea's head so she could sit up.

"What happened?" Althea asked, shifting to become comfortable.

Miriam frowned as she lit three sticks of incense and placed them at a table next to Althea's head. "You could say it was a sort of disease, but in time I will tell you. Now rest, Althea," she said softly, fanning the grey smoke from the incense with her hand.

"No, that boy," she said, fully sitting up, "I have to tend to him."

Miriam quickly rested her hands on Althea's shoulders. "No, no, you are staying here," she said. "You are too weak."

Althea frowned. "No, I must go, please," she said, unnerved by Miriam's gaze. "He is very ill."

Miriam tightened her grip on Althea's shoulders and bent closer to her. "You are in no condition to leave this village."

"The boy—"

"Will live," she said and loosened her grip. "Now, sleep."

Frowning, Althea relented as Miriam guided her toward the mattress. _How can I sleep knowing there is an ill boy out there_, she thought—woozy—inhaling the strong incense….

* * *

"What happened?" a groggy Althea asked aloud as she quickly sat up from the bed.

Frantically, she searched around the room in an attempt to remember what had happened. She was attacked, she had fallen off her horse, someone had saved her, and now she was in some village…but what village? Slowly, she lifted the blankets from her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Taking the top blanket, she wrapped it around herself as she walked toward the hut door. Opening the door, she peered outside to see a tiny snow-covered village. In all, there seemed to be about ten huts, very much like the one she was in, with smoke drifting from the vents in the ceilings. To her left, Althea noticed a group of young girls laughing and playing in the snow. Wrapping the blanket tightly around her, she stood in the doorway and watched the young girls as they wrestled and threw snowballs at each other.

As she watched them, she smiled to herself, remembering the snowball fights she had partaken in at Hogwarts. She laughed, which startled her for a moment, as she remembered one snowball fight in particular. Lily and Althea had decided to take a walk on a particularly gorgeous winter afternoon. As the two were walking, Althea was struck with a large snowball in the back of her head. Immediately turning around, she spotted the two culprits—Sirius and James—on different branches of a beech tree. James acted innocently as Sirius laughed loudly until Althea threw a snowball at him. In an attempt to dodge the snowball, Sirius lost his balance and fell from the tree, landing in a heap in the snow. Frightened, Althea rushed to his side to find him lying on his back, laughing at her. Pulling her to the ground, he continued to laugh as he kissed her, but stopped when Althea, giggling, crushed a large snowball into the back of his hair. _Only now do I wish it would have been a large rock that I hit you with_, she thought as the young girls continued to giggle and to laugh. _Maybe when I return to England, I'll be greeted with the news of your death in Azkaban…. I can only hope_.

"I thought my mother told you to rest," said a voice from Althea's right.

Althea turned her head, and remembered that it was the young woman in the hut earlier that day. "Oh, hello—"

"Eszter," the young woman finished. "I wouldn't expect you to remember my name as we only met briefly two days ago."

"Two days ago? No, that was earlier today," Althea corrected, shaking her head. "I have _not_ been asleep for two days."

Eszter smiled. "Yes," she said and, despite Althea's protests, continued, "you have been asleep for two days. I would expect you to sleep an entire week after an elemental attack. You are very strong."

Althea smirked and continued watching the young girls. "Strong, eh? I just can't die," she replied, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

"What, you want to die?" she asked with concern, moving closer to Althea.

"There are a lot of things I want, but I can't have," she said as a woman walked by carrying a toddler. Shaking her head, Althea asked, "Who are you—I mean, what are you? Where is this place?"

Eszter frowned thoughtfully. "I don't believe I'm the one to tell you," she replied and looked out at the children. "In spring, it is my turn," she said softly, smiling to herself.

Althea furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "It is your turn for what?"

Eszter's grin widened. "To conceive," she replied happily. "Every spring or autumn some of us are chosen," she explained, turning her attention back to Althea. "You could join us—I mean if you're still with us."

Althea did her best not to laugh at this outrageous offer. _What sort of place is this_, she thought, biting her lip. _I must still be unconscious in a bloody snow bank_.

"I'm not sure where I'll be," Althea answered and sighed, taking one last look at the children playing. "I—I should go back inside," she added, motioning to the inside of the hut.

Not waiting for a reply, Althea walked into the hut and roughly sat on the bed. _Exactly what sort of place is this_, she thought, looking at the fire in front of her. _I wonder if I'm able to leave at all. Maybe I'm some sort of prisoner here... They should have left me to that elemental, and then I could explain to Lily how sorry I am_.

"You're awake, Althea," Miriam said as she entered the hut. "Here, I've brought you some food," she added, handing Althea a large covered bowl.

Althea uncovered the bowl and greedily ate the roasted wild game and lentils. Miriam sat in a chair next to Althea's bedside and observed Althea as she quickly ate the food.

"You enjoy our food?" she asked, amused.

Althea nodded as she finished the last bite of venison.

Miriam stretched her legs before her and laughed quietly. "I thought you'd ask me who we were first before you started eating," she continued, taking the empty bowl from Althea.

"Who are you, then?" she asked and licked her lips. "What is this about conceiving in the spring or autumn?"

Miriam threw her head back in laughter. "I see you've been talking with my Eszter," she replied, folding her arms. "Oh, we have been called many things," she continued with a small smile. "Villagers to the north invented names for us, complete with fantastic legends. I have been called a Rusalka, a Vadleany, and by the Church, a Succubus. I quite like that one." She leaned close to Althea—a mischievous smile played upon her lips. "Legend has it, we entice young shepherds to stray from their flocks and seduce them into sinful carnal activities."

Althea frowned.

Miriam laughed quietly to herself. "We call ourselves Thyra."

"Thyra," Althea murmured.

Miriam nodded. "Not as dangerous as legend, I can assure you," she said and adjusted the sleeve of her robe. "But, you see, we have no men in our village. We have survived for these centuries by a ritual we perform every spring and autumn. A group of our young women are sent forth to conceive new members of our village," she explained and Althea raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry, the men chosen are very willing participants…very willing participants, indeed."

Althea sighed at this peculiar custom. "What if the baby born is a boy?" she asked, frowning.

"Easily remedied," she replied quickly and Althea's eyes widened. "Oh, we don't partake in that hateful practice of infanticide when we have a child of the unwanted sex…. No, in your world boys are prized, and many families are happy to take in a new son. Conversely, there have been instances where we have taken in abandoned female children—many of them are what you in your world call Muggle. We have no distinction here," she explained and sighed mournfully. "That, Althea, has caused us more pain than any village should bear."

"Taking in Muggle girls?"

Miriam nodded.

Althea frowned—how could this have caused them pain if no one knew the Thyra even existed?

"Oh, but the Cartimandua knew we existed," she answered, which jolted Althea from her thoughts.

"How did you—"

"We were formed long ago, Althea, by women who wanted to break free from the restraints put on us by the other sex. We wanted to practice our magic freely. It is ancient magic. Not the magic of wands—not the magic you are accustomed to," she explained, reaching into her pocket. Miriam produced a wand for Althea to see. "The wand, you see, is a male created instrument," she continued, waving the wand as she talked. "One does not need to channel her magic through a wand."

Althea shook her head. "But wands are useful," she said, resting her head against the wall of the hut. "A wand can be a very powerful instrument."

Miriam laughed. "Oh those silly charms they teach you—incantations for children. _Accio_ this and _Alohamora_ that—your father greatly amused me with them. No, our magic comes from this," she said and reached into her pocket again. She produced a small vial containing a brilliant green liquid.

"Potions—your magic is potions based?" she replied thoughtfully, looking at the small vial.

Miriam nodded. "The Cartimandua believed it was wrong for us to take in non-magic children. They would rather see a young girl die than to take her in—how barbaric," she replied and shook her head in disgust. "Foreigners had discovered ways to fool their protections. They came to their village and enticed them with promises of living freely among the rest of the magic world—how could they trust what _a man_ promised?" she continued bitterly—her grip tightening around the vial. "The Cartimandua had betrayed our ancient magic. They willingly disclosed our magic to those that wished to destroy us—to destroy all of magic. After you had left us, the Cartimandua and the foreigners had launched an attack on our lands," she explained, looking at the floor. "The Cartimandua had led them through our protections."

"Death Eaters?" she breathed.

"Is that what you called them?" she asked, and swallowed as she looked to the potion her hand. "No word is capable to describe such pure evil."

"How did you survive?"

Miriam shook the vial—the brilliant green potion shimmered with the agitation. "Ah, that is where the Cartimandua erred. For in forsaking our magic and revealing all to the foreigners, they had forgotten how truly powerful our magic could be," she answered. "Now, give me your hand."

Althea put her hand in Miriam's and Miriam unwrapped the bandage.

"Watch," she said and uncorked the vial.

Slowly, she let a drop ease out of the vial and fall onto Althea's wound. The wound began to bubble and hiss. Suddenly, the skin around the wound began to regenerate, quickly covering and healing the wound.

"Brilliant, thanks," she said, looking at her hand. "Better than dittany."

Miriam placed the cork in the vial and returned it to her pocket. While doing so, she produced another vial—this one a brighter green, which seemed to glow in the bottle.

"You see, brewed weakly that potion is beneficial in healing wounds," she said and uncorked the vial, "however, if brewed too strong—"

Miriam grabbed an animal fur and turned it over to the tanned skin. Slowly, she poured a drop of the glowing green potion onto the tanned skin. Quickly, the tanned skin began to bubble and to hiss. A large blister burst, which left gaping hole. Althea gasped as she realized what that potion was. How many times had she seen that potion kill! _They created the potion that almost killed Sirius_, she thought, wide-eyed.

Althea opened and closed her mouth as she pointed her finger at Miriam. "You—you made that potion? So many people have died from ingesting that potion! I almost lost the—you made that horrible potion?"

Miriam placed the cork back in the vial and returned the vial to her pocket. "We were exploited, Althea. Our potions were never intended to kill. All potions, all magic, if used incorrectly can cause harm, great harm even," she explained solemnly. "The magic I performed on you is what ultimately saved us and saved the non-magic of our village."

Althea frowned. "Muggles cannot perform magic."

Miriam nodded. "True, Althea, but if I take this potion, brew it strongly, and throw it at what you call a Muggle, it would kill him. Just the same, if he took this knife on the table and plunged it in my heart, it would kill me. There is no difference between us, Althea. Magic affects all of us. When we needed to escape, I performed a spell that allowed all of us to transform…that was how we survived. The Cartimandua were less fortunate. The foreigners felt betrayed and slaughtered them all."

Althea swallowed.

"I am afraid, they are looking for us too, but they have not broken our protections," she explained, resting her hand on Althea's forearm. "Only the Cartimandua could break them, and there are no Cartimandua left."

"You mean Voldemort?" she asked and Miriam nodded. "He's gone."

"Gone?"

Althea nodded. "October he was defeated," she said and tightly shut her jaw as those thoughts of little Harry alone in the rubble of Godric's Hollow seethed under the surface. How long had he cried until he was found?

Miriam furrowed her brow—her large dark eyes seeming to look through Althea. Althea felt drawn into them—her mind drifted from face to face of each person she had loved and lost.

Miriam nodded. "You lost many loved ones in that struggle," she replied knowingly. "Your mother—"

"And my father," she said quietly.

Miriam blinked. "He was a noble man," she said and patted Althea's forearm. "You've had a great pain, I can feel it."

Althea refused to look at Miriam. "The man that I loved betrayed our friends and sent Voldemort to them. He did it to save my life," she replied quietly. Shaking her head, she wiped her eyes. "Why did I just tell you that?" she asked, sniffing back tears.

Miriam moved beside Althea. "Because you know I won't judge you," she replied softly, taking Althea into her arms. "You've been judged too much."

Althea strongly clutched Miriam's robes as she sobbed into her shoulder. Miriam held her closely and slowly rocked her. Althea curled her knees to her chest. _Why am I alive? Why do I matter_?

"She was my best friend," she sobbed, "I was pregnant. He—he should have let me die. Now—now my baby's gone, and I—I can't have anymore. All because of him!" Althea started to heave and clutched Miriam's robes tighter. "He killed so many people—children! Why—why did I matter?"

"I cannot give you the answers. I don't know if there are even answers that will satisfy you," she explained, and pulled away from Althea. "But know this," she continued staring into Althea's eyes, "you are welcomed here for as long as you wish. We will not judge you."


	50. Themiskyra, Early June 1982

**Themiskyra, Early June 1982**

The rhythmic pounding of the drums outside the hut overtook and mesmerized Althea as she lay naked upon the hut floor. It had been four months since Althea's arrival in the village. As Miriam had promised, Althea was not judged, but welcomed as another member of the village. As Eszter had offered, Althea had joined them in their springtime ritual. At first she felt very awkward, but soon discovered that, it was a time for her to enjoy herself. She enjoyed herself with the Keeper and Beater for the Transylvanian National Quidditch Team, some foreign correspondent for the _Daily Prophet_, a dragon handler, a magizoologist, and Rex Stardust and Alexander Star—who happened to be on tour with their band, Orpheus. As the Healers and Midwifes of St. Mungo's had diagnosed after the attack, Althea was unable to conceive; however, in six months she would have four children to look after, and there were always abandoned girls that needed mothers.

Dizzy, from the spellbinding chants the women sang outside the hut, she breathed deeply the warm fragrant incense Miriam and the other women had laid on the glowing coals. The drums and the chanting leisurely intertwined into one hypnotic song that lulled her into a trance-like state. Slowly, Althea outstretched her arms to her sides and waited for the final step in the initiation ritual. She felt the women hold onto her arms as Miriam plunged the hot needle into her flesh. Althea winced and groaned. Repeatedly, Miriam plunged the needle into Althea's upper arms and then onto her upper back. With each plunge of the needle into her flesh, she felt her old life slipping away. Miriam stopped and Althea could feel the cool tip of Miriam's wand against the skin of her back. Miriam murmured in the ancient language, and Althea groaned as the tattoos seemed to catch fire and burn into her skin. The women covered Althea with large, cool fronds and Miriam whispered for Althea to rest. The white, fragrant smoke filled the hut and Althea closed her eyes. For the first time in almost a year, her sleep was dreamless, peaceful.

"It is finished," Miriam said warmly. "Welcome sister."

Althea rose from her stomach, carefully covering herself with the blanket. She looked at her arms that were red from the tattooing. Around her arms were bands of sacred symbols of the Thyra, and she craned her neck to see the symbol that covered her shoulder blades. She smiled at Miriam and Miriam nodded. Althea stood and the women helped her dress into her robes. Once dressed, she walked toward the hut entrance, opened the hut door, and stepped out into the cool spring evening. The women had lit bonfires and were still celebrating the initiation of a new sister. Althea smiled and joined the children as they danced in circles. Once the other women recognized the initiation rite had concluded, they cheered and surrounded Althea to congratulate her.

"Althea, how do you feel?" Eszter asked excitedly as she maneuvered Althea through the crowd.

"Honestly, I feel a bit dizzy," she answered as the two sat at one of the tables erected in the center of the village for this occasion.

"Here, drink this, it will bring your strength up," Eszter replied, sliding a ceramic mug to Althea's side of the table.

"Thank you," she replied, taking a sip of the warm liquid.

Over the rim of the mug, Althea watched the festivities before her. The women of the village had decorated the huts with weaved wreaths of flowers, and the ground and tables were covered with small blue and white flowers. Some women sat with children on their knees, laughing and singing, as another woman strummed an instrument that looked to Althea like a guitar. Others drank the warm mead or feasted upon the roasted game.

Althea removed the mug from her lips and placed it on the table. "You know, you really shouldn't have this celebration on my account," she stated, caressing the rim of the mug with her index finger.

"Don't be silly," Eszter replied, smiling. "Why wouldn't we celebrate something as special as this? You know," she continued, resting her hand on top of Althea's, "you really need to think more highly of yourself."

"_What_?" Althea laughed, removing her hand from underneath Eszter's hand.

"It's true. I've noticed it—ever since you came here. The men have broken you, Althea. They've crushed your spirit and made you dependent upon them."

"I don't think it was men who crushed my spirit," she muttered darkly—growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

"You are worth so much more than they could ever be," she replied earnestly, looking into Althea's eyes. "I hope one day you will realize this."

Althea smiled weakly. "Well, I hope for your sake I do," she replied and went to stand.

Eszter swiftly grabbed her wrist. "Not for me, for you. Don't ever live your life for someone else," she replied and let go of Althea's wrist.

Althea stood and smiled as she looked at Eszter. "Are you sure you're eighteen?"

"Very sure," she replied, smiling.

Althea left Eszter to find someone else or something else to take her mind away from the conversation with her. _I think I am the best judge of who I am_, she thought, smiling as one of the children handed her a bouquet of flowers. _It's so simple for her to say those things—she's lived here all her life. What am I thinking? She's seen just as much death as I have…. Bloody hell, maybe she is right…maybe I am broken_.

"Althea," Miriam said solemnly.

Althea turned to observe a very serious expression upon Miriam's face. "Yes, is something the matter?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"No, no. You must do something now. I want you to take these things," she said, handing Althea a large cloth sack. "It is very important you follow my instructions carefully."

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, holding tightly to the large cloth sack.

Miriam quietly divulged to her what she had to do. Upon hearing the request, she was dumbfounded, but she agreed—it was an important stage in the ritual…one rarely undertaken. However, Miriam trusted Althea, something that Althea greatly cherished. She listened intently as Miriam explained the ritual to be performed and that the ritual must be followed exactly as she stated, or disastrous, if not deadly, results could occur.

As the moon ascended into the sky, the festivities continued, but for Althea, her dangerous ritual was about to begin. Unassumingly, Althea stood and walked into the forest behind the village. Walking into the moonlit clearing, she stopped in the middle of the meadow. _This looks like the spot she described_, she thought, surveying the meadow as the trees cast long shadows against the dewy grass. Sighing nervously, she opened the large sack and carefully placed three vials, a chalice, and an obsidian dagger onto the soft earth. _This vial must be for the circle_, she thought, gradually swishing the silver liquid so it caught the moonlight. _This vial must be for the chalice, and this_, she thought as she gazed at the glowing orange liquid, _must be for the return_. She slipped the glowing orange liquid into her pocket.

Standing, she uncorked the vial containing the silver liquid, and slowly poured it in a large circle around her. The moonlight caught the silver liquid in its rays, causing the liquid to shimmer and then to glow red, scorching the earth beneath it. Next, she knelt inside the circle and placed the chalice, the vial of sparkling blue liquid, and the obsidian dagger before her. Uncorking the vial, she poured the shimmering liquid into the chalice. Lastly, Althea tightly gripped the obsidian dagger in her right hand. Holding it to her left forearm, she paused and stared at the eerie light it cast upon her skin in the moonlight. With a quick movement, she plunged and dragged the dagger along her forearm, holding the chalice filled with the sparkling blue liquid underneath to catch the droplets of blood. Swirling the chalice, she allowed for her blood and the potion to mix, transforming the liquid to a muted purple color.

"One in the same, as I am in the beginning, and now, and always, and in ages of ages," she recited nervously, as she slowly brought the chalice to her lips.

A slight revulsion engulfed her, as she was about to drink the blood mixture. Closing her eyes, she parted her lips and allowed the thick, metallic tasting liquid to seep past her lips. Althea shuddered and fell to the ground, dropping the chalice….

Regaining consciousness, she stood and wondered if she had performed the ritual exactly as Miriam had described.

"So, what now?" she muttered, looking around her.

Gazing up at the sky, she marveled at how many stars could be seen from her village. _I was never able to see many stars at my cottage_, she thought, as the twinkling of the stars intensified. Suddenly, it seemed as if the star filled sky started to descend around her, or she was ascending to the stars. Blinking, she realized that her feet were on the ground, and these were not stars but little orbs of light suspended around her. Watching the orbs swirl around her, she noticed that some orbs of light twinkled brighter than other orbs; however, upon closer inspection, the orbs of light contained what appeared to be small scenes in them—small scenes of her life—her past, her present, and her future. Althea remembered that Miriam explained that this ritual showed the future out of many futures. Not only her choices, but also the choices of others that directly influenced her life. Before her was a culmination of all her lives, and all she had to do was reach forth and she would be transported to one of them. Nevertheless, which life to choose? Closing her eyes, Althea outstretched her hand and touched one of the orbs. A sensation of falling overcame her, and she opened her eyes to see exactly what she was experiencing. However, when she opened her eyes, she was no longer falling, but had landed in some old, dilapidated room.

"Where am I?" she muttered, looking at the threadbare carpet.

Althea slowly eased herself upon her feet—out of her periphery she recognized a flash of faded scarlet and gold. She gasped. Her eyes drifted from the Gryffindor banners, to the motorcycle posters, to the posters of girls in bikinis that caused her to blush at seventeen.

"What am I doing here?" she whispered, stepping back from the wall.

"You're bloody awful," laughed a woman with a familiar voice—slightly lower than her own.

There, upon the unmade bed lay the older Althea and a man—if she had not known that room—would not have been a man she recognized. He was so old to her—much older than the Althea next to him. His lively grey eyes were dull and lifeless; his handsomeness gone. His once fit frame was now gaunt and the young Althea cringed as he brought his thin hand to the older Althea's cheek. And yet, the way he touched the older Althea—his soft expression—was very familiar to the young Althea. _I've never forgotten that look_, she thought, stepping forward. _His last look_.

"Azkaban," she murmured, and through gritted teeth continued, "you're supposed to be in Azkaban!" Fierce anger surged through the younger Althea's body. "Althea! Get away from him!" she shouted as the older Althea placed kisses along Sirius's chest and neck. "Don't—just stop—stop kissing him! Stop!" she screamed as Sirius laughed and rolled atop her older self. "_NO_!"

Althea stood and watched with disgust as the older Althea smiled and ran her hands through Sirius's long, unkempt hair. _Please God, let something happen to stop this_, she thought, making a face. _How could I—maybe—maybe this is to warn me. I cannot be here of my own free will—he's had to curse me_. Suddenly, the younger Althea heard a _thump_, which caused the older Althea to sit up somewhat. _Thank you_, the younger Althea thought, gazing toward the ceiling. She frowned at the pair of black lace knickers that dangled from the dusty, cobwebbed chandelier.

"What was that noise?" the older Althea asked, frowning slightly.

"I didn't hear anything," Sirius murmured as he continued to kiss her collarbone, but briefly paused to continue, "it's probably someone spending the night."

"I thought we'd be alone," she replied, visibly annoyed—her frown increasing.

Sirius lifted his head and smiled. "When has an audience ever stopped you?"

"I don't want _him_ catching us," she said, looking at the door and through Althea.

Sirius gently turned her face toward his. "He's not here; anyway, it's probably that loathsome—"

"Oh, I _especially_ don't want _him_ coming in here," she interrupted and pouted.

"He's not allowed to come in here," he replied and kissed her lips, "so stop worrying."

The young Althea let out a groan.

"I just—he's suspicious of me, that's all," she said as Sirius rested his forehead against hers. "I reckon he suspects—"

Sirius laughed quietly. "He's suspicious of everyone," he said and closed his eyes. "I thought you'd remember that."

"And don't forget—"

Sirius groaned, throwing his head back. "Don't ruin my evening!"

The older Althea fought a smile. "I won't," she said, smoothing the long strands of hair away from Sirius's face. "Ugh, when will you cut your hair?"

"You don't like my hair?" he asked teasingly, letting all of his hair fall into her face.

"No!" she giggled, removing his hair from her face.

Sirius took her hand in his. "I promise I'll have it cut," he replied and kissed her fingers.

"When?" she asked as he rested her hand against his cheek.

The younger Althea's stomach churned with anxiousness. How could she speak so casually to him? Sirius, who had sent their friends to their deaths? There, before her, lay an older version of herself—the happy lover of a man currently locked away in Azkaban. Sirius regarded the older Althea with the same affection. The young Althea swallowed. How was this possible? _This is a future that will never happen_.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, tomorrow. We'll make a morning out of it," he explained, smiling eagerly.

The older Althea frowned. "Sirius, you know I can't stay—I shouldn't have come tonight—"

"Of course," he snapped, and let go of her hand.

"What?"

"Just once could you spend the night?" he asked with frustration. "You know how much I hate this damn house," he added bitterly, rolling onto his back.

The younger Althea observed her older version sigh and frown—obviously, this conversation was a common occurrence. "I _have_ spent the night here," the older Althea replied, staring at the ceiling.

Sirius laughed derisively. "When?" he snorted, resting his hands behind his head.

The older Althea turned onto her side to face him. "I spent that entire weekend here in March, not to mention a few other times. I was here for your birthday—I reckon you'd remember that," she said, sliding her arm around his thin waist. "You know I'm not able to be here with you as much as I'd like…. You don't have that woman breathing down your neck," she added, stroking his side.

The younger Althea saw the moody expression on Sirius's face darken, which frightened her. Something had snapped in him and the younger Althea stepped backward on instinct. He was different and it was a face, even when he was his most angry, she had never seen. Maybe this face could murder. Sirius, grim and pale, removed one hand from behind his head and grabbed Althea's wrist—thereby removing her arm from his waist.

"So, what are you saying?" he asked harshly—his dim eyes narrowing. "My life has been _easy_ here? Oh, right Althea, I sit around all day in this awful house being useful," he added, folding his arms. "I can do _so_ much here."

The older Althea rested her head against his shoulder. "I hate this just as much—"

"You don't get it, do you" he said and sighed harshly. "You don't know what it's like to be stuck in this house day after day," he said, roughly motioning with his hand to the bedroom.

_I do know what it is like being stuck in a house_, the younger Althea thought, moving closer to the couple. _I was stuck in the cottage while I was pregnant, you idiot_.

"This place is killing me!" he growled and brought his face to his hands.

"I don't want you here either, but this is the safest place for you now," she said softly, resting her arm over his folded arms. "I wasn't the one—"

"Go," he replied flatly, turning onto his side—his back facing her.

"No, Sirius," she replied, sitting up.

"Just go, I don't want you here anymore."

The older Althea sighed with frustration. "No! You listen to me," she said, leaning closer to Sirius. "She's already questioned me about you. She's watching me. She _knows_ I know where you are. If I don't follow the line, she'll put me away for harboring you."

Sirius produced some derisive grunt, which caused the older Althea's face to redden.

"Do you understand what would be meant for me?"

Sirius rolled onto his back and looked at the older Althea with an appearance of annoyance. "What would be meant for you?"

"The same fate if they catch you—I'd have my soul sucked out of me," she said and Sirius's facial expression softened. The older Althea wiped tears away with the palms of her hands. "You're not the only one suffering, my love. Do you think I'd want you here? If I could, I d take you away from here, but this is the safest place for you. Do you know how much I want to quit my job and stay here with you? I should be here with you, so you don't have to stay in this horrible place alone," she explained, wiping her eyes.

The younger Althea gasped as Sirius sat up and tightly wrapped his arms around the older Althea. _I—I don't know what to believe—this is all so confusing_, she thought, shaking her head as she stared that the couple embracing. _How can I love him after all he has done? However, here I am…. What has happened to me_?

Sirius rested the side of his face against the top of her head. "Then do it," he said softly, "quit your job."

The older Althea held Sirius tighter. "It'll be too difficult."

"No, it won't," he replied, stroking her back. "Hand in your resignation and be done with it."

"They won't find a replacement in time," she replied, pulling away from him.

"Of course, they will—I bet there are loads of people who'd want your job," he replied, running his hands through his hair. "It's settled, then. You go tomorrow afternoon, tell them you quit, and be here in the evening," he added, grinning.

The older Althea smiled slightly. "So easy, isn't it?" she remarked and his grin widened.

"If you don't, I'll tell them for you," he replied teasingly, resting his forehead against hers. "Oh, _come on_," he added, throwing his head back and the older Althea laughed.

"I'll see what I can do," she replied, sliding her arms around his neck.

"You should because I'm lonely here," he murmured, pulling her closer.

"You're not completely alone, though, others come by—more than me," she explained, brushing the hair out of his face.

"But can I have sex with them?" he asked, frowning.

The older Althea frowned. "I hope not," she replied, making a face.

Sirius smiled slightly and sighed. "See, I'm so miserable without you," he lamented, slowly running his fingers up and down her sides.

"Miserable?" she repeated and he nodded pathetically. "You are so pathetic," she laughed and ruffled his hair.

Sirius grabbed her hand and kissed it forcefully as the older Althea reclined on the bed. _Bloody hell, there's nothing I can do_, the younger Althea thought, therapeutically massaging her upper arms. What had she become? Althea continued to observe the couple with powerful interest and powerful disgust. How could she do this? It was Sirius—Sirius who had murdered her best friend, who had murdered two of his own friends, and who had brutally murdered twelve Muggles.

"What has happened to me?" the younger Althea whispered—tears welling in her eyes. "He's—he's in Azkaban, and I'm—what have I become?" she muttered, reaching into her pocket. "I need out."

A small wave of relief flowed through her—Miriam was correct, the potion did travel with her. Uncorking the small vial, she held the vial of glowing orange liquid to her lips, and took one last look at the couple.

"I will _never_ let this happen to me," she whispered, determined, and eagerly drank the foul liquid.

Althea slowly blinked as a thick fog formed across her eyes. The two figures started to fade, and the muted colors of the room to blend into grey, into olive, and finally into brown. As she blinked her eyes again, she awkwardly jerked her head backward as a blade of grass had grazed her eye. She was not left standing as she had thought, and her sore body reinforced her idea that once the journey had started, she had fallen where she knelt. The sun was slowly rising as she lifted herself from the ground. She had not expected the ritual to last so long, but she had to make sense of what she had witnessed. Unfortunately, she was more confused, and wished Miriam had not asked her to perform the ritual. Gathering the vials, chalice, and dagger, she placed them in the large cloth sack and stood to return to the village.

"That future will _never_ happen," she muttered as she followed the path back to the village. "I won't ever become that bloody desperate and loathsome."

She comforted herself with the knowledge that Sirius was in the most secure section of Azkaban and, with the constant presence of dementors, might be dead if she returned to England. No one had ever escaped, and certainly not Sirius. _They'd have his soul_.

Althea came to the clearing the led to her village. _What time is it_, she thought, frowning as she looked up in the sky. _The village is so quiet. At least one home should be awake and cooking breakfast now_. Roughly brushing aside a large tree branch that blocked her way, Althea entered her unusually quiet village. Immediately, she noticed overturned chairs and the table, now broken, which she had sat at with Eszter last evening. _It's very odd_, she thought, taking out her wand as she continued to look about the village. The decorations that proudly adorned the huts and tables were now strewn about the ground as if someone had purposefully ripped them down. As she walked further into the village, she spotted a clothed heap to her right. Slowly she crept toward the linen-clad heap and covered her mouth as she realized the older woman was dead.

"What happened?" she whispered, backing away from the dead body.

Althea quickly turned and ran toward Miriam's hut. Reaching Miriam's hut, she fiercely knocked upon the door and waited for Miriam to answer; however, neither Miriam nor Eszter answered the door. Uneasy, Althea pushed opened the door and screamed at what she saw before her. At the foot of the door was Miriam, lying on her back, with an unbroken vial of potion in her hand.

"Miriam! Miriam!" she screamed, kneeling next to her. "MIRIAM!" she shouted, shaking the lifeless body.

Miriam's body remained rigid—her hand clenching the unbroken vial—her expression one of horror. Althea stood from Miriam and roughly rubbed her eyes. Turning to her left, Althea shook her head as more tears continued to flow as she gazed upon Eszter draped partially on the bed and floor.

"No, no, no," she whispered, horrified, walking toward Eszter. "How—what—no, this isn't real," she muttered, backing away from her two lifeless friends.

Panicked, Althea immediately ran from the hut and into the center of the village. "Can anyone hear me?" she shouted and looked around the village. The village gave no response and Althea shouted once more, "CAN ANYONE HEAR ME, DAMN IT?"

No response came, and Althea started to search out every hut for a member of the village. Entering house upon house, she found not one woman or child alive. Some killed while still asleep in their beds, but others killed at their doors in an effort to defend themselves. At two huts however, no survivors were found because the huts were empty. One was Althea's hut and the other belonged to a witch not much older than Althea. Althea searched her hut for any sign of where this woman might have been, but came up with a significant sign that startled her. Everything the women had of value was gone—every potion, every magical instrument, gone. Althea quickly searched every hut and noticed, too, that every magical item was gone. The sudden shock of Miriam and Eszter's deaths blinded Althea from the overturned furniture and the broken vials found in their hut. Althea carefully examined the broken vials; Miriam had broken them, for those were the only things not taken from the hut.

"Who would do this to you?" she asked quietly as she ran her fingers through her long hair. "Who would murder you?"

* * *

In the center of the village, Althea began to break apart the chairs, tables—even siding from the huts—anything large and wooden that would conduct a large funeral pyre. _When this is finished, I might as well throw myself on this thing_, she thought, throwing a large wooden plank onto the pyre. _They've kept me alive for only so long…. I should have died on that road. I wouldn't have to feel this way again. I cared so much about that stupid vision, but now it will never happen—my death will seal it_, she thought and furiously threw a chair onto the pyre.

Wiping away tears as she placed the broken pieces of wood on the large pyre, she noticed someone on the opposite side of the fire tossing tiny twigs and leaves. Althea continued to throw a large piece of the table onto pyre, and as she did so, she heard the tiny grunt of a girl forcefully throwing a rather large branch onto the pyre.

"Who's there?"

Althea heard a gasp over the fire.

"I won't harm you," she said, feeling the stinging glow of the fire upon her skin. "Please, come forward."

Slowly, Althea heard the footsteps walk around the enormous funeral pyre. It was a young girl, no more than nine, with long brown hair and a tear stained face.

"It's only me," Afina answered quietly, twisting her hands in front of her waist.

"Afina!" she replied excitedly, rushing toward the girl. Althea quickly threw her arms around the shy girl and held her tightly to her. "Are you all right?" she asked as new tears fell freely from her eyes as the girl nodded. "Where were you?"

"The woods," she said, her small fingers kneaded into Althea's back. "Mama took me. She told me to sit and be very quiet—no matter what…. I heard—I heard everyone screaming, but I stayed there and stayed quiet," she answered and pulled away from Althea. Wiping her eyes, she fretfully looked at Althea. "She never came back for me…she's dead isn't she?" the young girl asked and bit her lip.

Althea nodded slowly as the tears fell from Afina's eyes. Althea took Afina into her arms and cradled her. "I was younger than you when I lost my mother," she said quietly, holding the little girl tighter.

She heard Afina sniff back her tears. "What's going to happen?" she asked, holding onto Althea tighter.

Althea paused for moment. She was not sure what she would do and had felt she had no purpose anymore. With her friends gone and a life she sought to escape, too, gone, she thought she had nothing; however, this little orphan hugging her needed a guardian. Althea was the only tie she had left to her mother and to her heritage. Afina would give Althea's life purpose.

"To you?" she asked, stroking the girl's thick hair.

Afina pulled away and nodded.

"I don't believe it is wise to stay here," she said and smoothed the wet hair from Afina's face. "You're staying with me, right?"

Afina nodded once more.

Althea took a deep breath and forced the weakest smile. "Right, now you collect your things and I'll finish with this," she said, stroking Afina's cheek.

Afina's body stiffened. "No, I want to stay and help—help with the ceremony," she said steadfastly, furrowing her eyebrows.

Althea nodded. "Of course," she replied, sniffing back the rest of her tears.

_Oh God, what will become of us_, she thought as she watched Afina place flowers as high as she could throw onto the funeral pyre. Althea, still unsure of her decision, started the funeral rite.

Althea did not cry as she gathered the bodies of her fallen friends. She did not cry as she caringly and reverently levitated them onto the large funeral pyre she constructed. She did not cry as she watched the smoke dance lazily into the mid afternoon sky. She did not cry as she gathered her things. She did not cry as she lit a torch from the funeral pyre and set the remaining buildings of the village afire. Nor did she cry when she took Afina's hand and left the village. She did not cry at all.


	51. Althea's Cottage, October 1982

**Althea's Cottage, October 1982**

Althea took the manila envelope into her hands. "Thank you," she said, feeling for the thick, stiff photographs inside.

The unassuming man in the grey jacket smiled. "No worries," he sighed and nodded toward the envelope. "Everything you need is in there," he added and flicked the envelope with his forefinger. "Very easy to find, actually."

"Really?" Althea breathed, tightening her grip upon the envelope. "I just—I just didn't know where to look, I guess."

The man shrugged. "I reckon it's why you hired me," he said and winked. "If you need—"

"I'll be sure to call on you," Althea said and held up the envelope.

"Right."

The man nodded and went to turn, but as he did so, Althea asked, "Where did you find her?"

The man paused and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but all Althea heard was the static from a wireless.

"Sorry?" she said, furrowing her eyebrows. "Again, please?"

The man raised his eyebrow and spoke—Althea only heard the static once more.

Althea sighed disappointedly. "Right, thank you."

The private investigator nodded. "Good day."

Althea shut the door to her cottage and tore at the manila envelope. Her heart skipped as she peered inside the dark envelope. _You might've prevented me from finding her_, she thought, pleased with herself at her cleverness, _but a Muggle can_. Althea's hand slipped inside the envelope and she eased out the thick stack of photographs. Her heartbeat quickening, she slowly turned over the stack of photographs. How did she look? Was she happy? Was she well cared for? Althea's body ached to see her child.

"Oh God," she whispered, her hands trembling as she turned over the photographs.

Suddenly, Althea let out a scream.

"NO!" she growled, slamming her back against the door. "NO!"

Instantly, large tears formed in her eyes, obscuring the still photographs of village scenery. Where was she? Where was Prudence? Althea frantically flipped through the photographs—each one documenting village life without Prudence. An older gentleman tipped his hat to nothing. A toddler cried as an invisible person poured sand upon him. An opened supermarket door with an empty cart. Althea threw the photographs across her sitting room floor and slowly slid down the door. _That bastard_, she thought and growled, _that clever bastard has kept her from me_!

"I have nothing!" she shouted and covered her face with her hands.

_I hate him_, she thought, her tears intermingling with her hot breath upon her palms, _I hate Dumbledore_.

* * *

Althea wrinkled her nose. "Where are my knickers?" she wondered aloud, looking about the car seat.

John Harrington chuckled. "In some hedgerows," he said, zipping his trousers.

Althea made a quiet noise of disgust. "Take me home," she said, folding her arms.

John stuck out his tongue. "Not to that wretched cottage."

"It's my home."

"Northfield is your home," he said, smoothing his hair in the rearview mirror.

Althea sighed loudly.

John smirked. "If you insist, my dear."

"I do."

John started the car and eased them out of the grove of trees. _This was decidedly stupid_, she thought, looking out the window at the darkened landscape. Althea attempted to pull her skirt over her knees, but it was a futile effort. _What was I thinking? Bloody John Harrington…look at that awful smug expression_. Althea made a face. _God, that it was actually good was the worst bit_. John slowly pulled into the gravel path that led to the cottage. He stopped the car and grinned at her. Althea couldn't help but cringe as she looked at him—her red lipstick smeared upon his face and neck…he insisted upon it.

"God, how I've wanted you," he whispered, leaning closer.

"Well, right, happy birthday," she muttered, opening the door.

"I won't forget this birthday gift," he said and kissed her cheek.

"Yes, you will," she whispered and held up her wand. "_Scourgify_. _Obliviate_."

John jolted his head back and blinked. "Althea?"

Althea smiled sweetly. "Thank you, for escorting me home," she said, stepping out of the car. "It was very kind of you. Tell your granddad that Gran says hello."

John rubbed the side of his face. "Yeah, cheers," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Right, thanks."

Althea waved pleasantly as John drove away. "Berk," she muttered and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Althea?"

Althea turned to see Remus Lupin in her doorway. Illuminated by the light from the drawing room, Althea noticed his robes were shabbier and his hair longer. She had not told him of her return to England in June, and the two met in early July by chance in Diagon Alley. He had seemed pleased to see her—as he always would—but Althea did not share the same friendliness. She would never forget it were his hands that restrained her from retrieving Prudence from Mrs. Parker. Still, he visited her, sought her out, and looked after Afina when Althea was out with Sophie and her Muggle friends.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, nervously smoothing her dress.

"I was to meet you," he said, stepping out of the way so Althea could enter. "I'm leaving soon."

"Oh, oh right," she murmured, sweeping the hair from her face. She frowned, as she smelt of John Harrington's cologne. "Well, do come in, won't you?"

"Was that?"

"Yes," she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "It was John Harrington. He escorted me home."

Remus faintly sneered.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, pointing her forefinger at him.

"I wasn't," he said, holding up his hands. "I—"

"You're just as bad as—"

"Let's not—"

"What?" she asked, slapping her hand against her thigh. "Don't bloody judge me, Remus! What am I to do?"

Remus was silent.

"St. Mungo's doesn't want me. It didn't matter that I fought against Death Eaters in their bloody hospital. All they cared about was that I hopped on the back of Sirius Black's motorbike."

"You could try—"

"What? Nonnatus?" she laughed and shook her head. "They would need references and my Healers-in-Charge were not apt to give them. Save a bunch of Caretakers from a cursed Healer and _I'm_ a disgrace to the profession!"

Remus closed his eyes.

"Oh, and the best part? That bloody cursed Healer was on the board that rejected me! Ha! Do you believe that?"

"I wouldn't—"

"I have nothing," she said, placing her hand upon her breast. "What is left for me? You'll leave and—"

"Come with me," he said a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks, "to Brazil. No one would care or bother us. We could be—"

Althea's eyes widened slightly. "You don't want—"

"Don't say that," he said, stepping forward, a faint boldness in his voice. "It would be good for you—for the both of us."

"Remus—"

"You have to get away," he said, placing his hands on her arms. "This cottage…Northfield…it's killing you—"

"I'm already dead," she said and gently lifted his hands from her.

"Althea—"

"I might as well stay here and face my bloody destiny," she said and looked around the sitting room. "The eccentric spinster Countess of Northfield with the bitch of a grandmother."

"You need to get away from those Muggles—"

Althea laughed bitterly. "They don't care. They don't care that I ever enjoyed a shag with a Dark wizard."

"They don't care about _you_," he said with a touch of anger. "Self-absorbed, that—"

"Go ahead and judge who I shag, _Remus_," she said, folding her arms. "Isn't that what the Wizarding world does best? I reckon all I need is a Centaur and I will have horrified every facet of respectable Wizarding society."

"It's not what I meant," he said, through gritted teeth.

"What did you mean?"

Remus raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to speak, but frowned as something caught his eye. He stooped to pick up a photograph that had partially slipped under the sofa. He looked upon the photograph that should have shown Prudence—his face became white.

"Althea, how—how did you get this?"

"What?"

"This," he said, holding up the photograph. His lips upturned into a sad smile. "She—"

"You can see her?"

Remus nodded, transfixed with the photograph. "Can't you?"

Althea shook her head. Her stomach lurched forward. Remus could see Prudence in that photograph. It meant he could see her in all those photographs. Althea caught her breath.

"Describe her to me."

"You can't?"

"I can't," she said, balling her hands into fists at her side. "Describe her to me."

"How'd you—"

"I hired a private investigator," she said, stepping forward. Althea peered at the empty photograph. "I can't see her. Describe her, please."

Remus nodded as he looked from her to the photograph. He faintly furrowed his eyebrows. "She looks like you," he said and tilted his head to the side. "Her hair is very curly, two large pink bows, a pink dress, of course—"

"Is she happy?"

"She looks," he began and laughed quietly, "bored."

"Bored?"

"She's had enough of her blocks," he said, pointing to the bottom of the photograph. "Not a very interesting toy, is it? "

"No," she murmured, looking upon the patch of grass. "I have more."

"More?"

"Loads more," she said and gently bit her bottom lip, "and I can't see her."

Remus looked up from the photograph. "Would you like me to describe them to you?"

"You would do that?"

Remus nodded. "Without hesitation," he said and sat upon the sofa. "Bring them to me, please."

Althea smiled. The first true smile in ages.

"Thank you," she whispered and kissed his unshaven cheek. "I will."

She felt Remus smile against her lips.

Althea sat next to Remus and curled up next to him, resting her head upon his shoulder. Remus pulled the large stack of photographs from the envelope and sighed.

"Oh, this is a good one," he said and Althea closed her eyes. "Incredibly naughty."

Althea imagined her daughter's gleeful baby tooth smile as Remus described how Prudence poured a shovel-full of sand upon a small boy's head. Did Mrs. Parker run to the little boy's aid? It was very easy to imagine herself inside that photograph as Remus described every detail. Prudence, in her purple smock, happily played in the plastic sandbox with the toddler neighbor boy as Althea chatted away with her neighbor. She spoke about Prudence's cleverness and how she was growing up too quickly. Her neighbor thoughtfully agreed and warned Althea of what was to come as Prudence aged. Althea did not object to the advice and she prayed Prudence would not demonstrate her magic as she was wont to do. As the two women discussed the important gossip of the village, they temporarily forgot about their well-behaved children…until they heard a yelp and cry. Althea quickly turned to see her Prudence, with the plastic blue shovel in her hand, standing over the crying, huddled boy. She profusely apologized to the boy's mother about her daughter's unprovoked behavior. The mother wiped the sand from her crying son's sandy blond hair and murmured that she reckoned they were even. The women said their goodbyes and confirmed the play date for the next weekend.

Remus sniffed and she heard a shuffling of the photographs. He laughed lowly. "I reckon I know what her Animagus form will be," he murmured, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

Althea shifted and cuddled close to him. _We should've run away_, she thought as Remus described Prudence on all fours chasing a small dog. _You hurt almost as much as I do…I know what she meant to you…you were shocked but pleased when I asked you to be her godfather_. Althea recognized the sadness in Remus's voice as he mused about what type of dog Prudence would be. He decided she would be a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel and Althea wrinkled her nose at the suggestion.

"You don't have to—"

"No," he said and rested his head atop hers. "I want to do this for you…and I can't help but be selfish. I miss her, too."


	52. Althea's Cottage, November 1982

**Althea's Cottage, November 1982**

_…This is my last night in Macapá, and I will begin my journey along the Amazon early tomorrow morning. I wish you had reconsidered my offer, Althea. I think you would have enjoyed canoeing off into one of the Amazon's tributaries, and discovering the amazing plant and wildlife. My guide has already told to me of some of the magnificent creatures I'll see—I'm excited to see the scarlet macaws and the brilliantly colored poison dart frogs, but I doubt I want to see an anaconda. My guide had informed me that, last year, one enormous anaconda had killed a small dog he had owned. I must remember on the full moon to stay away from the river. I do hope you enjoyed the bird I sent the letter with—it's a toucan—doesn't it have the most fantastic beak? I asked the man would it be anymore to send it, but they don't use owls here. It reminds me of the time we traveled to the zoo with Afina; however, here I'm not separated by a cage or glass from the exotic animals. _

_I am unsure when I will write next, as there will be no place for me to post the letters. I believe there is a center in Manaus, but I will arrive there in a few weeks or so. I'll send your Christmas presents then because, honestly, I'm not sure if I'll be able to post again until March. _

_Send my love to Afina. I'm looking forward to her first letter in English. Now to you, take care of yourself, Althea. Now, I think this letter is long enough, as it is five pages. I'll write more about my journey as soon as I can. _

_Regards,_

_Remus_

_Take care of myself, in what way_, she thought as she folded the letter and stared at the toucan in her kitchen. _Now, what am I going to do with you_, she thought as the bird hopped along her kitchen table. _You'll have to stay just long enough for Afina to see you then you go back_. Yawning, she stood from the kitchen table and Apparated to the manor house. Gran had insisted that Afina live with her while Althea sorted out the wreck of her life. At first, she protested, but after Gran found Althea passed out on her kitchen floor after a night of heavy drinking, the fate of Afina's home was decided. Althea would be more of an older sister or aunt to Afina and not a replacement of her mother.

Althea's stomach tightened as she was about to enter the drawing room—she had to prepare herself for Gran's assault on her character. Gran sat in her favorite chair absorbed in her needlepoint, and had not noticed Althea's entrance.

"Good morning, Gran," Althea said quietly, walking closer to Gran.

Gran sighed, paused from her needlepoint, and looked up at Althea. "Althea Rosemary, what brings you here this early—it is before two in the afternoon, you know," she remarked, placing her needlepoint on the table next to her.

Althea frowned as Gran inspected her further.

"Dressed, I see, and not smelling like a vat of alcohol—what's the occasion?"

"I received a letter," she replied quietly, looking at the floor. "I'd like—"

"From whom?" she interrupted—her eyes narrowing.

Althea sighed. "From Remus, I'd like for—"

"Oh, now there's someone who has his priorities sorted out," she interrupted again and Althea's frustration grew.

_Yes_, Althea thought, clenching her fists. _I should be more like Remus, shouldn't I? I should be doing something useful with my life. But don't you see, Gran? He's running away from the same things as me. How can one be bloody useful in a jungle? He's trying to lose himself, Gran, we just have different methods_.

"Gran, I want to take Afina to the cottage to see the toucan," she replied quickly so Gran could not interrupt her again.

Gran raised an eyebrow. "A toucan?"

"Yes, a toucan," she sighed, looking at Gran. "The letter Remus sent came by toucan. She saw one when we went to the zoo together and was fascinated by it. I want to show her before it begins its flight back to Brazil," she explained and folded her arms. "Now, a short walk to the cottage isn't going to end in some catastrophic incident, is it? I know she'll be delighted to see it."

Gran frowned as she evaluated the offer. "Only if I can come along," she replied shortly and stood.

Althea laughed quietly. "Right, so you want to see the toucan, too, then?"

"It's not a matter of wanting to see the bird, Althea Rosemary. It's a matter of your sanity," she explained, walking toward the staircase.

Althea's eyes widened at the accusation. "_My sanity_?" she repeated disbelievingly. "What, are you joining the campaign to commit me to St. Mungo's?" she sneered, resting her hands on her hips.

Gran sighed and shook her head. "Althea Rosemary, you quit your job, you sleep until the afternoon, you smell of alcohol—you're unfit," she explained, placing her hand on the staircase banister.

"Unfit," she muttered angrily, frowning—her hands falling heavily to her sides. Mrs. Black had called her unfit. "Maybe if you hugged me once and awhile and said, 'Well done, Althea,' then maybe I wouldn't have turned out this way," she continued, looking at the back of Gran's perfectly combed hair.

Gran tightened her grip on the banister. "Do not blame your faults on me," she replied, looking at the stairs. "If you don't straighten up, Althea Rosemary, you'll end up like Madam Doula."

Althea shivered at the mention of Madam Doula. Upon her return, she had learned of the awful fate of the Longbottoms—tortured to the point of insanity. She also learned the fate of Madam Doula, driven insane by the news of the countless children she assisted now dead or orphans. Another Healer had told her that he found Madam Doula near death after an apparent overdose of poppy juice and Firewhiskey.

"You'd like to see me there—St. Mungo's—wouldn't you?" she asked, walking toward Gran.

"Althea Rosemary, you know that isn't true."

"Oh, _come on_!" she replied, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You haven't wanted me here since I was eleven. Just admit it, Gran, you never wanted me, and you don't want me here right now," she explained as she reached the staircase.

Gran slowly turned to face Althea. "No, Althea Rosemary, you listen to me. You are just like your father. He dumped you on my doorstep when you were eleven and left you here with me. I was the one who raised you, Althea Rosemary. Now you, you dump one child with a Muggle family, and now, you leave me with another," she replied heatedly, pointing her finger at Althea.

"You know I had no choice with Prudence," she replied through gritted teeth.

"You had a choice! If she were my child, I would never have given her up. It just proves—"

"Proves what? That I'm unfit?" she yelled and ran her hands through her long hair. "To hell with it, don't bother her. I'm leaving," she muttered, walking away.

"Yes, do what you always do—run away," she replied condescendingly.

"Just die already!" Althea shouted back and Apparated.

Althea returned to her cottage and collapsed on the kitchen floor. _That bloody woman_, she thought as she started to cry. _I wanted to show Afina a toucan, which is gone now, I wanted to show her a toucan, and Gran thinks I'm going to steal her. Bloody hell, when did I lose this woman's trust_, she thought, wiping her eyes as she stood.

"I don't think I ever had her trust," she muttered as an owl flew in with the _Daily Prophet_. "Oh, let's see what's in here today," she added as she took the _Daily Prophet_. "Anything to take my mind away from that old woman?"

Althea made a face at the courtroom photographs of the front page. How could anyone resist such a salacious story? The man who obviously accepted the load of gold and a weak excuse of an Imperius Curse from the Death Eaters that tortured Althea and murdered other pregnant witches had a son who was very much the Death Eater. Althea raised an eyebrow at the deranged devotion upon Bellatrix's face. _You'd think they've exhausted every angle_, she thought as she walked toward the sitting room. Althea threw herself upon her sofa and read about further trials for Death Eaters. She felt a small twinge in her stomach for Sirius did not receive the same courtesy of a sham trial.

"Probably because one of them was Barty Crouch's son," she murmured and let out a quiet laugh of spite.

_…The search for Death Eaters intensified after the arrest of the four that were later convicted of torturing the Longbottoms. However, upon recent interviews, the Ministry believes the majority of recent persons of interest were indeed under the awful Imperius Curse. Therefore, the sentence to Azkaban, if any, would be approximately six months_….

"They can lie, you know," she said aloud and threw the _Daily Prophet_ across her sitting room.

The paper slid against the hardwood floor, leaving a trail of pages as it came to rest against the wall.

"I'll clean it up later," she muttered, frowning at the paper pile.

Althea threw herself back onto her sofa and stared at the crack in the ceiling. _It's gotten longer since the last time I looked at it_, she thought, resting her arms behind her head. _Anyway, I wonder what the Imperius Curse feels like though. I wonder if you know or even feel it. It might explain how bloody stupid I was for believing everything Sirius said to me…but St. Mungo's cleared me. Healer Young couldn't hide his horror that I might've loved him…and I don't know why I've kept his things_. When she returned home from Themiskyra, she collected the rest of his things, photographs, letters, and anything else associated with him, and stored them in the Northfield attic. She should have thrown them away or created a large bonfire to destroy all of his belongings; however, she could not. _Why am I hanging on to such rubbish_, she thought, sitting up from the sofa. _He's not coming back, he's never coming back, and I don't want him back. He can rot in that hateful prison for all I care. However, I would like to see him though, before he dies, so he knows his betrayal was for nothing. He followed Voldemort, wanted me dead, but here I am. I want to see him just as he is about to die. I think that would be the perfect way to send him off to the afterlife_.

"It might scare him to death, I think," she spoke aloud—a small smile formed across her face. "But what to do now?" she asked, scratching the side of her face while looking at the coffee table.

She had to keep her mind occupied or she would start drinking, and ten o'clock in the morning was too early. She would meet Sophie later that night, anyway. She smirked at the Muggle tabloid upon the coffee table. Posh Slag Shag—_they've really outdone themselves_, she thought, looking at the photograph of two women below the fold. Sophie, with a large grin, sat upon the pavement—her miniskirt around her hips—as Althea, laughing, slid down the side of nightclub wall. Lady M and Lady A had stopped reprimanding their granddaughters over their sexual escapades (although the public drunkenness could be too much to tolerate). To Althea, she reckoned that for Gran, anyone was better than Sirius Black.

"I reckon I'll read—it's better than drinking."

Leaning forward, she grabbed her father's last journal that rested next to the Muggle tabloids and started to read. Over the past six years, periodically, she would turn to her father's journals for answers. Most of his journals were filled with small anecdotes about his travels, his opinions on his daughter, and some small news of his research. Through her searching of countless papers and journals, she finally discovered her father's last journal three days ago. She had yet to start reading it as she had not been sober enough to, but today, she decided would be the day she started to read her father's journal. Resting her back against the sofa, she opened toward the middle of the journal and started to read.

_…I received a letter from Minerva detailing another unfortunate event of my daughter. It seems she hit a boy with an abnormally thick book in the library. Upon hearing the opening sentence, I realized it must have been the same boy she had the broom shed accident with near the end of her fourth year. Unbelievable, that I alone had to pay for the damages inflicted upon the broom shed. He was the one that dared her, and Althea is too stubborn to back down or to steer her broom_….

Althea smiled as she remembered the broom shed incident of her fourth year. _Sirius and I spent three days in hospital after that_, she thought, stretching her legs out before her. Angry at some remark Sirius had made, Althea had called him a coward, which was worse than any hex or jinx she could have performed on him. To prove he was not a coward, he challenged her to a game of Wizards' Chicken. Althea agreed, and the two rode their brooms—each waiting for the other to fall off, or turn his or her broom so as not to hit the broom shed. However, the stubbornness of the two prevailed and neither turned, nor fell of his or her broom. They hit the shed almost at full speed with the broom shed wall splintering from impact. Althea and Sirius, both unconscious, were rushed to the hospital wing and spent three days recovering.

_…I wondered the cause of the latest incident until I arrived at the third paragraph—the stupid boy had kissed her. I am at a loss for the reasons, except one, of which I hope couldn't possibly be the reason. I wasn't very awful to Diana during our time at Hogwarts, but I did tease her a bit—in an attempt for her to notice me. She did and I became less stupid; however, I pray that this is not what is happening here. Although, I never dared Diana to fly into a damn broom shed! Is this the ritual of children today?_

_Althea is such a perceptive, sensitive girl, and I'm afraid some of our travels might have swayed her toward more liberal sentiments. I fight not to find it amusing that she willfully disregards her grandmother. In some respects, she reminds me of George, and I am sure it pleases my dear mother. _

_Althea could do so much better—especially a better family. I doubt the affections of my daughter could be swayed, though, and after another night in infirmary, I hope he realizes as well. Except, it would be highly amusing to see the reaction on his foul mother's face the next time I see her poking her nose about at the Ministry_….

"The Ministry?" she asked quietly, frowning. "Daddy wasn't near the Ministry until February," she muttered, flipping through the journal.

She turned to the beginning of the entry and found that it was dated _London, September 15, 1975_. _Maybe he was in London for the weekend—called back for testimony of some sort_, she thought, turning to another journal entry.

_London, December 12, 1975_

_I have been in this country for six months now, and the separation that I feel from Althea is unbearable. However, she cannot know that I am back in the country—it is too dangerous for her to be anywhere near London or anywhere near me. The disappearances are constant now, and I could not bear putting my daughter in danger. I know if she knew I have returned, she'd do anything to see me—something very foolish. I keep reminding myself she needs to stay with her Gran and at Hogwarts, but this distance is dreadful. She is growing up so quickly, and in her last letter, she had told me of the lovely trip she took with her boyfriend to Hogsmeade. Now that frightened me, my own daughter having a boyfriend—an excellent student and prefect, my Althea was proud to tell me. Remus Lupin, the son of Healer John Lupin—the Head of Creature-Induced Injuries—a gentleman I am quite familiar with, whose son (how does Althea manage?) was brought to my attention in the case to allow him into Hogwarts—_

"Oh God, you do think I'm a right little daughter," she breathed and winced. "Well done, Althea, shagging a werewolf."

_I wish to meet him though, to give him the fatherly approval. I have been an awful father, but I have to protect her from what is about to come_….

Althea frowned. "That entire time he was in England and he didn't visit me once," she said softly, holding the journal tighter in her hands.

Swallowing hard, she continued to read her father's journal entry:

_…At the Ministry today, of all people, I met Pulcheria Oswin. I haven't seen her in ages, since our last meeting in Romania over a year ago. A very beautiful woman, and I was delighted she accepted my offer of dinner tonight. I wonder if we will be able to rekindle what we had in Romania_….

"Ew, Daddy, no," she responded, making a face.

Althea turned the page, shuddered, and picked another spot, farther into the journal, to read:

_London, February 7, 1976_

_Only my Althea could find so much trouble. She frantically wrote me over Christmas Holiday with news of a run-in with a werewolf. Had the protections I advised upon failed? At the time, I thought it an accident, but now I know it deliberate_…

"Daddy, it was Remus," she murmured and swallowed. "An accident."

_As I had expected, the fright had transformed her; however, much to her relief and much to her horror. She continued to ask me questions of her transformation, answers to questions I was neither ready to give, nor could give to her. However, I have relented, and I have decided to send Althea the journal containing the secret to her transformation. I am not sending it to her for her benefit; rather, I am sending the journal to her for its protection. The journal contains sensitive material that if to fall into the hands of the evil, would cause infinite harm. _

_I have discovered I have been betrayed, and it is only a matter of time before the followers of that aristocratic impostor murder me as they have done to countless others, including Althea's mother. I should have known she would betray me—how could I have been so stupid! I immediately knew once I saw the Dark Mark on her forearm that Pulcheria had sold herself to that bastard. So many researchers have done so—afraid of the consequences. I noticed the Dark Mark when her sleeve slipped as she was reaching for a book. She does not know that I know of her betrayal, but her betrayal will be fruitless as the research is safe. _

_Now I know that I am in the right for keeping my daughter away. I only wish I could see her again and admire the young woman she has become in my absence_….

Althea abruptly stood and forcefully closed her father's journal. _She killed my father_, she thought, the muscles of her body tightening. _That bitch killed my father_. Althea screamed into the silence, allowing the book to fall from her hands. She covered her face and fiercely sobbed into her hands. How she would kill for one last time to speak with her mother, or her father, or Lily, and now, Miriam. _He was in England…all that time_. Althea gasped for breath and coughed. _I would've done everything to see my child one last time_. Suddenly, Althea's stomach reeled as she realized she was no better than her father. Would Prudence feel the same? Would Afina? _I've abandoned Prudence and now I've abandoned Afina_, she thought, smoothing her hair away from her face. _Bloody hell, I am a mess_.

"I—I need to become a better person for Afina's sake," she said, determined. "No more drink, I'll dedicate my days to her education and adjustment, and I'll care for her as a real mother should," she added, rubbing her upper arms. "I've let myself suffer too long."

Determined and invigorated with her newfound purpose, Althea first picked up the thrown _Daily Prophet_, and as she was about to toss it into the dustbin, she noticed something that chilled her body:

**Pulcheria Oswin Book Signing Today at Two**

She reread the headline to make sure if it was true, and it was. Pulcheria Oswin would be at Flourish and Blott's to promote her latest book _Wanton Werewolves_ at two that afternoon. The sadness she felt for her father was instantaneously replaced with overwhelming fury at this escaped murderess. Althea knew what she had to do—she would expose this Pulcheria Oswin for the Death Eater that she was—the Ministry would be happy to have her in Azkaban…even for six months. Althea looked at her clock and noticed it was five minutes until one. She had little time to prepare before she had to leave. She had to look her best if she was to expose a murderess.

* * *

"She is the most amazing author," the woman in front of Althea said to the woman standing next to her. "She puts the whole world of Dark creatures into perspective."

_Perspective_, Althea thought, as she picked up Pulcheria Oswin's latest book. _She sensationalizes the plight of the werewolf into some hideous creature that deserves subhuman recognition_. Sneering, she opened the book and started to read from a few passages as she waited for Pulcheria to sign her book. Immediately, Althea's nails dug into the leather binding as she read Pulcheria's writing, refuting her father's evidence and the evidence of countless others. _How could anyone believe such rubbish_, she thought angrily, _male werewolves kidnapping women and forcing them to have their children, so there would be new generations of werewolves? What awful lies! And this—this—'Many of us remember the awful story of the Weymouth Werewolf of 1827. A horrified husband found his wife and four children murdered where they slept—everywhere the telltale signs of the werewolf. Thankfully, the werewolf, Rufus Stubb, was apprehended and was immediately exterminated.' Why don't you finish it, huh? Why didn't you include that this man was wrongly accused during the hysteria of the early nineteenth century? The husband took advantage of this hysteria and later confessed to killing his entire family! The only evidence when they found the poor man was bloody chicken bones after the man raided a chicken house. He was later exonerated! 'Furthermore, I, like many others, believe that stricter regulation, if not cleansing of the werewolves, will only alleviate the current problem.' She's calling for the extermination of werewolves—that bitch_!

"Oh my God," she whispered as she continued to read.

The short, pudgy woman, with an enormous, bright pink bow in her hair, turned around and smiled. "I see you're affected by the book as well—powerful stuff," she said, clutching two of Pulcheria's books: _Wanton Werewolves_ and _Vicious Vampires_.

"Right, powerful," Althea muttered—frowning—staring at pictures of how to determine a werewolf during the rest of the month.

_Absolute rubbish more like it_, she thought, closing the book.

"The part about the male werewolf carrying off the young woman absolutely frightened me!" the other woman explained and shivered.

"Are you sure this sort of thing is true, though?" Althea asked, pointing to the book.

"Without a doubt," the toad-faced, pudgy woman replied quickly. "Look at the amount of evidence Ms. Oswin has provided—remarkable piece—remarkable."

"Remarkable, indeed," Althea replied sardonically, opening the book to the author's biography. "It is written here that she has never personally met with a werewolf, but she writes as if she has met one or more—"

The pudgy woman laughed, which unnerved Althea. "One does not _need_ to meet a werewolf to know it is a sadistic, bloodthirsty, carnal creature," she replied with an air of superiority.

The tall, thin woman next to her gasped, and brought her hand to the side of her face. "I've heard they're _wild_," she whispered knowingly. "I had a friend who had the unfortunate circumstance to sleep with a werewolf. She hasn't been the same since—the poor girl."

"_Really_?" Althea replied with mock seriousness—she attempted her best to hide her smile. "I've heard it's the _best_ experience—_especially the night before a full moon_," she explained and bit her lip as the two women gasped.

"That's what she said in her book! The women become blinded to such things! That's how they keep the women and the women have their werecubs," the tall woman replied excitedly.

The muscle underneath Althea's right eye started to twitch. _I can't believe I'm listening to this_, she thought, stepping forward as the queue moved. She wanted to hex both women out of their stupidity.

"Also," the pudgy woman began, "that is why werewolf sweat is a highly prized aphrodisiac."

Althea coughed to stifle her laughter. "I've never heard of such a thing," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, but it's in here! Page six hundred and thirty-three!" the tall woman said eagerly. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever met a werewolf—"

"Hope they're not sweating?" Althea interrupted, smiling as both women frowned at her. "Oh, look—it's your turns," she added happily and the two women turned around to face Pulcheria Oswin.

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes as the two women heaped their sycophantic compliments and blind praise upon Pulcheria Oswin. In between the two, Althea saw the bent head of Pulcheria signing the pudgy woman's book. _It will be my turn next_, she thought as the two women giggled ridiculously at a joke Pulcheria made. Althea clutched the book tighter. Would she expose her now? Who would believe her? At one time, just a passing remark that someone was a follower of Voldemort was enough for trial and even Azkaban. Althea needed more evidence—she needed to see the Dark Mark. She had never seen such a mark upon the skin and wondered if it looked like that hideous creature she saw in the sky. Why hadn't her father described it? However, Pulcheria was wearing a long sleeve robe, and Althea was not sure if the Dark Mark would be there. Could one hide it? Althea needed Pulcheria to reveal casually some information about her connections, and to do so Althea would lie.

"Next?"

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and examined the brown-haired, middle-aged witch. _So this is the woman that murdered my father_, she thought, staring into the brown eyes of Pulcheria. Pulcheria smiled and held out her hand for Althea's book. Briefly, her grip tightened on the book before she handed it to Pulcheria. _I wonder if she smiled when she betrayed my father_, she thought darkly as Pulcheria opened the book. _'Look, my Dark Lord, I brought him to you. See! His research will die with him_.'

"Your work is fascinating," Althea lied, moving closer to the table.

"Why thank you," she replied, taking her quill from the inkbottle. "I do take pride in my research."

"Oh yes," she continued, "you most definitely should. Your work on the problem of Dark creatures is inspiring. I am researching them myself…I spent the year in Transylvania."

"Really?" she replied, interested.

Althea nodded. "Yes, in a small village in Northern Transylvania," she replied—a small energizing feeling flowed through her body. Pulcheria might just believe this lie.

"Transylvania. I spent some time there—I was in Romania at the time, but a year? I'm intrigued," she added, leaning closer. "I could imagine how dangerous it had been."

Althea smiled sweetly. "I barely escaped with my life."

Pulcheria's eyes widened slightly.

_It's working_, she thought, smiling more as Pulcheria continued to speak in amazement that Althea survived in a place full of Dark creatures. _I don't believe this, but it's working_.

"I would like to continue to talk with you—a fellow researcher on the subject of Dark creatures. Maybe you could enlighten me on a particular debate we've been having in the community," she said quietly, twirling her quill. "The signing is almost over and my flat is short distance from here," she explained, dipping her quill in the inkbottle again. "I'd love to continue that discussion with you there."

_This is almost too easy_, she thought, staring at an eager Pulcheria. _She will befriend me, learn to trust me, and in the end, I will send her to Azkaban_.

"Oh, that would be lovely," Althea replied with feigned admiration.

Pulcheria smiled. "Let me sign your book, then. Now, what's your name?" she asked—her quill poised to write.

The blood drained from Althea's face. If she told Pulcheria her name was Althea Morrigan, the ruse would be over and Althea's attempts to imprison Pulcheria would end. Quickly, her eyes darted from book spine to book spine looking for a name. Over Pulcheria's head, she spotted two books, one by Monty Kelly, and the other by Dryden Derry.

"Kelly Derry," she replied, combining the two names.

"Well, Kelly Derry," she began—handing Althea the book, "it will be a pleasure to talk with you."

"Most definitely," Althea replied, smiling, and turned to walk away.

_Now I'll have the evidence to send you where you belong_, she thought as she reached the door. _You will be in Azkaban, and everyone will know your crimes_. As Pulcheria Oswin signed the books of the rest of the fawning customers, Althea would wait and conjure up stories about her time in Transylvania. She had to convince Pulcheria that indeed she had studied and met with Dark creatures. _I hope this bloody works_, she thought, resting the back of her head against the brick building. _If not, I'll never have this chance again_.


	53. Number 8 Knockturn Alley, January 1983

**Number 8 Knockturn Alley, January 1983**

It was the seventh meeting between Althea and Pulcheria Oswin. At the first visit, Althea had listened with feigned interest as the woman who enjoyed her own voice spoke of her travels, her thoughts on Dark creatures, and commented upon Althea's discoveries. Now, as the hours would pass during each visit, Althea would just tease Pulcheria with her stories and Pulcheria wanted more. At every meeting at Number 8, Althea built that tenuous trust between the two women—Althea an eager researcher of the Dark and Pulcheria a happy teacher.

"Amazing," Pulcheria breathed and took a sip of coffee. "Did they ever catch the vampire?"

Althea nodded. "Eventually, but not after it killed three more children," she explained, taking a sip of coffee. "Terrible stuff those vampires."

"Indeed," she replied, placing her mug on the kitchen table. "I had visited a village were the inhabitants had planted rows and rows of garlic around the perimeter of their village. The vampire problem in Eastern Europe is most out of hand."

"Oh, I agree, but nowhere near the intensity of the werewolf problem," Althea began, taking another sip of coffee. "A community of werewolves was a common legend among the villagers as well," she continued, placing her coffee mug on the kitchen table.

"A community of werewolves? That is our worst fear, and there it is a reality," she said, shaking her head in disgust.

Althea nodded. "I did not believe it when I first heard about the community from the villagers; however, when I saw it for myself, I quickly changed my mind," she replied and laughed nervously. "Almost didn't live to tell anyone what I saw."

Pulcheria's eyes widened in amazement. "You actually _saw_ the village?" she asked, leaning forward.

"I did," she answered solemnly. Althea closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining Remus frowning disapprovingly at her. Sighing, she opened her eyes before she began, "It was a beautiful day and I decided to take a walk. The villagers had warned me not to do so as I wouldn't return before nightfall. I didn't listen, and I started my journey—absolutely gorgeous country. But, I became lost and it was nightfall before I found a village—except it wasn't my village."

"Oh no," she breathed, perching her chin against her hand. "It was the werewolf community?"

Althea nodded slowly. "I realized it wasn't my village when I noticed dried human bones decorating the boundaries of the village. I was unable to leave, as it was the full moon, so I climbed a tree. I watched as some of them brought back freshly killed humans for them to devour. There were even children…I couldn't believe my eyes," she explained and wiped the fake tears she had produced.

Pulcheria tenderly touched Althea's hand. "That is what I hope my books protect us from," she said softly. "Those half-breeds are monsters, subhuman, and should be treated accordingly," she added and Althea retracted her hand in disgust.

"However they're only monsters one day out of an entire month," she replied thoughtfully and took another sip of coffee.

Pulcheria laughed. "They _want_ to blend in, waiting for the right time, no doubt. I've read my opponents' work. I've read that Morrigan fellow's work—absolute rubbish if you ask me. Werewolves capable of _love_? How can a bloodthirsty beast be capable of love?" she asked and took another sip of coffee.

Althea caught her breath at the mention of her father's name. It was the first time she had mentioned Daniel Morrigan. Her plan was working and soon she would have the evidence needed to send her to Azkaban. _Maybe she will be in the cell next to Sirius_, she thought—her breath returning to a steady pace. _They could compare the people they've betrayed and the people they've killed_.

"I've read Morrigan's books as well—weren't you two colleagues at one time?" she asked with feigned innocence.

Pulcheria took a long drink from her coffee. "We were until our views radically changed. He was blinded by compassion and misplaced sentimentality toward werewolves," she explained with an air of disgust.

"Yes, he did emphasize their humanity," she replied, tapping the side of her cup with her index finger. "So, you stopped working together because of your differences on werewolves, then?" she asked, hoping Pulcheria would not recognize where the questions were leading.

Pulcheria shook her head. "No, no. It was part of it, but not the entire reason," she began and frowned. She motioned for Althea to lean closer and she did so. In a low voice she asked, "What are your thoughts on blood status?"

Althea's heart leapt forward as a large dose of adrenalin surged throughout her abdomen. "Blood status?" she replied thoughtfully, frowning as if she was carefully constructing her answer. "I do believe in the greater the wizard, the purer the bloodline…if that's what you mean," she explained in the same low tone.

Pulcheria smiled approvingly. "I thought so…very good answer," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "I knew I liked you. Remind me of myself."

_I hope not_. Althea noticed Pulcheria had become more comfortable in her speech and her manners were at ease.

"Obviously you have more intelligence than him. Only unions between pure wizards and witches will produce the strongest wizards and witches," she explained casually.

Althea feigned an appreciative smile and tightened her grip on the coffee mug handle.

"He, however, did not think as you do—obviously blinded by his own Mudblood status," she replied and raised her mug to her lips. "Merlin, how that disgusted me when I discovered."

_Before or after you bedded him_, she thought, _you psychotic slag_. Althea took a long, deep breath to calm herself from leaping across the table and strangling Pulcheria. She had to continue the lie. She had to see the Dark Mark. Althea feigned a thoughtful frown.

"Do you believe your research influenced You-Know-Who's popularity?" she asked quietly and bit her bottom lip.

A smile flickered across Pulcheria's face. "Ms. Derry, scientific research is separate from politics," she replied—her smile widening.

_Really_, Althea thought—her stomach churning at the self-satisfied smile of Pulcheria, _then why would Voldemort want my father dead over some simple scientific research_?

"So, are you still conducting this research?" she asked, briefly looking inside her coffee mug and then at Pulcheria.

"Oh no, no, my funding has been cut off," she answered sadly.

"How awful," Althea lamented, frowning.

Pulcheria sighed. "It is—this sort of thing must be researched; however, it is too much of a touchy subject now," she replied and looked inside her coffee mug. "Would you like more coffee?"

"Oh no, I'm fine, thank you," she replied, smiling as Pulcheria started to stand. Althea sighed and swirled the remaining coffee around the inside of her coffee mug. "Imagine if the Dark Lord had lived, your research could have continued," she added carefully and waited for Pulcheria's reaction—she could not have been more pleased.

"Yes," Pulcheria said absentmindedly and then gasped, realizing what she had said. "Oh, I didn't mean—"

Althea laughed to soothe Pulcheria's nerves. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she began, slightly smiling, "as there were _and are_ many supporters of him."

Pulcheria released her breath and laughed nervously.

"It was only the brave that _truly_ followed him," she added and pointed to her own covered left forearm. Althea prayed Pulcheria would believe she had the Dark Mark.

Pulcheria's face softened and she smiled serenely. "Yes," she admitted and lifted her sleeve.

Althea saw the Dark Mark hideously imbedded into Pulcheria's flesh.

"It is still as dark as the day the Dark Lord gave it to me. Some have forced theirs to fade, but I will keep mine always," she explained, almost lovingly caressing the Dark Mark. She paused, sighed sadly, and picked up her coffee mug. "Now, I believe I do need more coffee."

Althea watched as Pulcheria walked toward the coffeepot. "So, what does your research have to do with Morrigan, then?" she asked and finished her coffee.

Pulcheria paused before she placed her coffee mug on the counter. "We were researching the same thing—blood status…except—except his research was resulting in some dire conclusions," she explained and tapped the glass coffeepot with her wand to warm the coffee.

"What sort of dire conclusions?"

"Conclusions that went against the truth of the research _we_ were conducting," she answered and tapped the coffeepot with her wand again. "He would not be swayed to our way of thinking though."

Althea stood and walked toward the sink. "Yes, and ultimately he paid the price," she said and Pulcheria turned to face her. "His life, I mean. He was murdered…horrible what they did to those that murdered him," she added and sighed with feigned sadness. "Horrible."

"Oh indeed," she agreed, shaking her head and turned once more toward the counter. "Anyway, it must have been a surprise for that nasty daughter of his."

Althea inhaled sharply.

"His precious Althea," she said and made a noise of disgust.

_My father would've shown her a photograph, wouldn't he_, she thought, resting her trembling fingers upon the edge of the sink. She cursed herself—had Pulcheria known all along? She noticed Pulcheria had not washed her dishes from her lunch, and to her right, lying on the counter next to the sink was a long carving knife. It was an old knife with a few small chips of wood taken out of the handle, a small ring of rust encircled where the handle met the blade, but the blade was sharp. Althea wondered why a prolific writer wealthy from her works would own such an old knife. As she stared at the knife, she caught her breath, when the idea of thrusting the knife into Pulcheria's chest entered her mind. _She killed your father. She would kill you, too_.

"Muckblooded upstart, more like it," she remarked, pouring herself more coffee and jolting Althea from her murderous thoughts. "Flaunting her relationships with pure-blooded wizards—"

"Probably upset she wasn't one herself," Althea interrupted, her hand resting on the knife's handle.

_What am I thinking? Stop touching the knife, Althea_, she thought, quickly letting go of the knife's handle. To distract herself, she turned her head to see Pulcheria scooping sugar into her coffee mug.

"Oh no, it was more sinister," she said and frowned. "You weren't aware of the plan to infiltrate pure-blood families?"

Althea felt the blood in her veins chill. "I—I wasn't in England," she said quickly. "Ro—Romania, remember?"

"Ah yes," she said and nodded. "She was one of them, a little Muckblood whore, poised to lure pure-blooded wizards from their true path," she explained, adding a large scoop of sugar into her coffee mug.

"Terrible," Althea muttered—her face and neck prickling with warmth from her anger.

She grabbed the towel next to the knife and twisted it, imagining it was Pulcheria's neck. How much satisfaction would she derive from seeing Pulcheria flail and panic as Althea strangled her! _This woman is completely insane_, she thought, letting go of the twisted towel. _She's waited for this moment, hasn't she? To expose me before she killed me_. As Pulcheria continued to degrade Althea as some scheme thought up by Dumbledore to produce hoards of inferior wizards and witches, Althea's anger surfaced and she went to reach for her wand, but thought better of it. _You wouldn't bloody think I'm inferior if I blast you across the room_, she thought darkly, smoothing out the crumpled towel.

"You know, she dated a _Black_?" Pulcheria remarked and made some derisive grunt.

The mention of Sirius returned her interest and caused her stomach to sink.

"She flaunted that relationship as if she had won the greatest prize."

"I remember. All of us saw them together…shameful," she replied hollowly, her attention once more drawn to the knife.

_No, I was his little joke_, she thought, her hand sliding closer to the knife. _He used me as his cover…no one would suspect Sirius while he was with me. Someone was feeding information to Voldemort from the Order over a year before Lily died. Who did he start a relationship with over a year before? Me. Oh how could I have been so stupid_! Althea quickly retracted her hand once she realized her actions. No, she must not let Pulcheria unnerve her. What would be the use of killing her? Azkaban would be a greater, slower death for the woman that killed her father. Oh, but how she wished she could plunge the knife deep into Pulcheria's heart! To be able to look into her eyes and watch as the life left them; the last thought on Pulcheria's mind knowing that Althea Morrigan, the daughter of the man she betrayed, killed her.

"Thankfully, he saw his mistake and returned to us," she remarked and laughed. "She's probably still crying over him, no doubt. Wishing he would have killed her," she added and laughed louder. "I wish he would have though, so she could be where she belongs, with her Mudblood father."

Althea's hand tightened around the handle of the knife. _How dare she say those things_, she thought furiously, looking at her reflection in the knife's long blade. This woman had betrayed and had killed her father, and Althea conjectured that this woman might have murdered others as well. As Pulcheria continued to degrade Althea and her father, Althea wondered what would have happened if her father had been alive—if Pulcheria had not betrayed him, if she had not existed. Althea would not have almost killed herself, and Sirius would not have found her—she would not owe her life to him. She would not have seen the minute thread of goodness that surfaced that night—the goodness that wiped her tears and held her close at the news of her father's death. She would never have known of the goodness that attempted to protect her from reading about her father's death and wrote her foolish love letters. None of what occurred would have happened. Lily might be alive, James might be alive, Peter might be alive, and those twelve Muggles would be alive. Althea would be able to have children.

Out of her periphery, she saw Pulcheria reach into her robes. _No_! her mind screamed, and she lifted her hand that held the knife from the counter. In one swift movement, she swung Pulcheria to face her and plunged the knife deeply into Pulcheria's abdomen. Wide-eyed, Pulcheria gasped as Althea pressed the knife further and upward as Pulcheria's legs buckled. Quickly, she pulled the knife from Pulcheria's abdomen and stepped backward as Pulcheria fell to the ground. Althea whimpered. Her body began to shake. Looking from the woman bleeding on the tile floor to her bloody hands, Althea dropped the knife—it hitting the floor with a muffled sound as blood spattered from the knife blade.

"Oh my God," she whispered, fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit. "What have I done?"

Wide-eyed, Althea looked from the dying woman to her own bloody hands. The blood was warm and coated her hands like an oozing film. What should she do? She cannot let this woman bleed to death, but it would surely mean Azkaban for Althea. Her eyes darting around the room, Althea attempted to think of a plan. Should she clean the kitchen and dispose of the body? But where would she dispose it? She would be seen! She did not intend to kill her—it was an accident. She was not thinking—it happened so quickly—so quickly. What would she tell the authorities? Pulcheria ran into the knife? No, the authorities would not believe that scenario. Self-defense? Yes, it was self-defense, or rather self-preservation. Pulcheria had betrayed and had killed her father and she was indirectly responsible for Lily's death. How many others had this woman betrayed and killed? No, this was self-defense, and Althea bent to pick up the knife. She did not know how to dispose of a body, but she could dispose of the knife. Slipping the knife into her robe pocket, she realized she would not be able to leave the flat undetected. She could not walk out the flat door—she would be seen and once someone found the body, she would be arrested. She had to find another way.

Looking at the palms of her bloodstained hands, her eyes traveled to her wrist, to the tattoo that reminded her of what she was—what she was able to do. Wiping her hand on her robe, she opened the window and looked out—the street was empty and her escape would go undetected. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, her body became rigid as she waited to transform. Slowly she felt her body grow smaller and lighter. _God forgive me_, she thought, hopping up onto the window ledge.

* * *

The water in the bath had cooled and her teeth began to chatter as she sat in her bathtub. Althea looked at the knife that rested against her bare abdomen. It was clean now, not even the rust that encircled where the handle met the blade was left. She was a murderess. She had gone to Pulcheria Oswin's flat with every intention of sending her to Azkaban, but now Althea would be the one sent to Azkaban. Althea inhaled through her nostrils and repeated the mantra she had been telling herself since she arrived at her cottage—_it was self-defense_.

Pulcheria had caused enormous pain and suffering. She had betrayed, had murdered, had separated families, and had propagated abhorrent lies about werewolves and vampires. She wanted to exterminate all werewolves. She wanted to kill Remus, and Althea could not have that. Pulcheria was a follower of Voldemort and followers of Voldemort never exhibited mercy. So why should Althea toward them? Furthermore, she was still an ardent supporter of Voldemort. How many more people could Pulcheria have killed? If she thought, there was a chance that Voldemort could return, who knew what she could be capable of—Althea had done Wizarding Britain a service by ridding the streets of a dangerous criminal.

Her mind shifted to other dangerous criminals captured and sent to Azkaban after the fall of Voldemort. Her mind came to the most notorious case—the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. What if someone had killed the four before they could have tortured Longbottoms? The Longbottoms would still be sane and happily raising their son—possibly adding to their family. Now that little boy was robbed of any brothers or sisters he might have had. Who knows how much longer the torture and the murder by former Death Eaters would continue? She was right in what she did. Members of the Order had killed, and the Ministry had authorized the Aurors to kill, too. Sometimes death was necessary.

After hiding the knife in the cupboard underneath her sink, she Apparated to Northfield and entered her bedroom. Pulling the sheets back, she slipped underneath and closed her eyes. She would dispose of the knife the next day and attempt to forget about the murder. Maybe Remus would enjoy some company in the Amazon.

* * *

_"Mummy! How could you? How could you abandon me?" Prudence shouted—her face red with tears. _

_Althea gasped and covered her mouth. Prudence had every right to say those hurtful things. "I—I didn't abandon you. I love you," she whispered, resting her hands on Prudence's shoulders. _

_Prudence shrugged her shoulders and stepped backward. "You did…you abandoned me," she replied and covered her face with her hands. _

_"No, I love you. I had to save you. I love you," she whispered tenderly. _

_Prudence continued to shake as she lowered her hands. "Oh, mummy!" she laughed and Althea became puzzled as Prudence continued to laugh. "If you loved me you would have let daddy's mummy take me! I'm more like him everyday."_

_"NO!" Althea screamed and lunged at her daughter. _

_"Oh, mummy!" Prudence laughed as Althea strangled her_….

Althea awoke, panting, and wildly scanned her room. Resting her head against her knees, she began to sob. How could she dream of killing her own daughter? As she continued to sob, an owl flew into her bedroom and dropped the _Daily Prophet_ on top of her head. Hoping it would bring her relief from her nightmare, she wiped her eyes and opened the paper to the front page.

"They found her," she whispered in shock—her body quickly becoming numb.

The Ministry would come for her and she would be sentenced to Azkaban for the rest of her life or worse. Althea shivered at the thought of The Kiss. Swallowing a difficult breath, she began to read the article:

_Pulcheria Oswin, the well respected author of such books as _Wanton Werewolves_ and _Vicious Vampires_, was found dead in her flat by a neighbor late yesterday evening. As of release, the circumstances of her death are vague, but the Ministry assured us that her death was indeed murder. The question to ask next is: Who would want to murder Pulcheria Oswin? The answer to that question was written in her own blood. It seems that Miss Oswin was not dead, or perhaps the murderer had left his signature to tell us of the deed. Written in her own blood was the name of Kelly Derry. Who is this Kelly Derry? No other description was left and we are left to wonder is Kelly Derry a man or a woman_?

"I don't believe this," she breathed as she continued to read:

_After a thorough search of her residence, it seems that Pulcheria Oswin was in league with You-Know-Who. Through documents and other artifacts collected, the Ministry believes Miss Oswin was still tirelessly working for You-Know-Who. Bartemius Crouch Sr., upon interview, believed that Kelly Derry was making the job of the Ministry in capturing followers easier. This makes the author of this article wonder; will this be the first of You-Know-Who follower murders? Be warned followers of You-Know-Who, you are not safe and would rather suffer the fate of convicted followers than the fate of Pulcheria Oswin—murdered in a most Muggle way_….

Althea sighed with relief as she finished the article. The murder would likely go unsolved and Althea would be safe. The _Daily Prophet_ and those in the Ministry were actually praising her for what she had done—as if they were almost coaxing her, or challenging her to take up the fight to eradicate Voldemort's supporters. She was not a murderess. She was a heroine.


	54. Hogwarts, Late May 1994

**Hogwarts, Late May 1994**

_…I hope you enjoy this dress, Auntie. I thought of you as I made this dress, and I thought you should be the first to have one of my designs. After all, you were the one that would humor me by standing still for hours as I perfected my craft. I do believe this makes up for about a third of all the pin sticks in the bum. _

_I so wished you could have come to my show—it was a fantastic success. I should've thought about the full moon (wink). I'll be in all the best Wizarding shops in New York, and by fall, I hope to have my clothes in New Orleans and Salem. Gladrags, of course, has been less than accepting of my designs. Pity, my shop in London is doing so well. _

_I might've sent a scarf to Professor Sprout. Did she wear it? She was so pleased when I wrote to her last of my success. Auntie, could you imagine McGonagall or Gran wearing one of my designs? I'll have to design something more matronly. You, however, are not allowed to look matronly. I know what those cold winters and long school days can do to a bright young professor like yourself. How are you supposed to attract a handsome young wizard dressed like McGonagall? _

_All my love,_

_Your Afina_

"I don't dress like McGonagall," she muttered as she finished the last line. Althea scanned the bottom of the letter and realized there was more.

_PS. Yes, you do dress like McGonagall. Now try the dress on!_

Althea frowned as she folded the letter. _I don't wear tartans_, she thought, slipping the letter back into the envelope. _I don't dress like McGonagall either. I'm a schoolteacher, not a member of a bloody rock group_, she thought, opening the package. Upon opening the package and gazing at Afina's work, she had to admit that Afina was an exceptional clothing designer. Althea was worried when Afina confided in her during her last year at Hogwarts that she wanted to pursue fashion design instead of a traditional Wizarding career as she had planned. However, Afina quickly excelled at her Wizarding fashion fellowship in Paris, studying under some of the most prominent Wizarding fashion houses in the world. She left Paris a year ago to pursue a designing career in New York—the emerging center of Wizarding fashion. Her small shop in London was very popular among the magical youth. Althea's fingertips gently stroked the soft purple fabric as she admired Afina's use of texture and embroidery.

"Afina, this is fantastic," she breathed, holding up the dress to admire it further. "But where's the rest of it?" she asked, frowning.

_I don't think this is something I could wear at Hogwarts, but I could definitely wear this in London or when I visit her next_, she thought, placing the dress on her desk. After closing the thick curtains to her office windows, she unbuttoned her robes and slipped on the dress Afina designed. Enlarging the mirror she had in her drawer, she examined herself. _It's not as short as I thought—it's just a few inches above the knee, but still_, she thought, watching the fabric swirl around her legs, I wonder if I should be wearing something this short. Suddenly, Althea began to laugh—she was thirty-three, not seventy-three. _Oh, but am I too matronly to wear this dress_, she thought, looking at her robes lying on her office floor. When had she started to dress so _old_? Sitting on the edge of her desk, she remembered when there was a time she would never have worn something so old. _I'll make a special trip to London to buy a new wardrobe_, she thought, taking a picture frame from her desk.

"Oh, Afina, I don't believe Gran approved of that tongue piercing," she murmured, as Afina—sitting next to a smiling and laughing Althea—stuck out her tongue for the camera. "She wouldn't stop screaming after Lily and I had our ears pierced."

_She was always more lenient with you than with me_, she thought as Afina wiggled the stud with her bottom teeth. _I had one E in Potions and I was severely reprimanded for being a stupid girl, but you receive four E's and you're congratulated for a job well-done…. It must be her old age_. Whether it was her old age, Althea truly did not know, but Gran had treated Afina differently from Althea. During her time at Hogwarts, with no pleading or screaming, Afina was permitted to go on skiing holidays in Canada over Christmas; whereas, Althea was never allowed to spend more than a week away and was chaperoned at all times. Of course, unlike Afina, Althea never missed an opportunity to sneak away or evade her chaperones—her chaperones who understood the importance of a young girl and her adventures.

_Afina must have been a true joy compared to me_, she thought, placing the picture frame on her desk. _No, she never did half of the things I did…like lying to Gran about Sirius's identity or sneaking Sirius up to my bedroom or running away with Sirius_. Much to her mortification—with a smirk—Sirius had introduced himself to her Gran as Stephen Potter, the summer before their seventh year. Surprisingly, Gran did not see through the ruse and approved of Stephen Potter. She thought him to be an appropriate young man for her granddaughter, much to the amusement of Sirius and Althea. The ruse lasted until Althea's seventeenth birthday, when Sirius attempted to persuade her to run away with him and confronted Gran about her awful treatment of Althea. Gran hexed Sirius out of the house, and threatened him with death if he ever returned. Sirius, always willing to take up a challenge, visited Althea one night during Easter Holiday of her seventh year. Refusing to wait until he left Hogwarts, Sirius bought a motorbike with the help of Remus—who helped with the monetary transaction. Somehow, he had figured out the specific charms to allow the motorbike flight, and had flown the motorbike up to her window one night over Easter Holiday. The hum of the motorbike's engine woke Althea from her sleep, and as he was attempting to coax her to fly away with him, a livid Gran entered Althea's bedroom. Immediately, Gran shouted for Althea to get away from the window; however, caught up in the moment, her reckless devotion, and copious amounts of adrenaline coursing through her veins, Althea refused, and in her nightgown, she climbed through the window onto the back of Sirius's motorbike. As they flew away, she looked back to see Gran's head out the window shouting at her. She spent the rest of Easter Holiday in Sirius's flat when she should have been studying for her N.E.W.T.s.

"No, I don't think it was a matter of leniency," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. "How we didn't get ourselves killed—"

A knock on her door broke her from her thoughts.

"Just a moment," she said loudly as she stooped to pick up her robes.

Hurriedly she folded them and placed them behind her desk. Smoothing out her dress and tugging at the skirt to improve its length, she slowly opened the door.

"Remus," she sighed, smiling with relief, "come in."

"I hope I'm not bothering you," he replied as he entered her office.

"Oh no, no," she replied quickly, closing the door behind them. She motioned with her hand for Remus to sit on her sofa. "I was trying on the dress Afina designed for me," she explained, sitting next to him. "So, what brings you here?"

Remus raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "Is that the dress Afina designed?" he asked, pointing to Althea.

Althea nodded.

"Well," he said, motioning for her to stand, "let me see her work."

Althea shook her head. "Oh no, really…it's so short—"

"Come on, let me see," he encouraged, smiling.

Althea rolled her eyes and sighed disappointedly. "Really, it's very short," she said as she stood.

She bit her lip as Remus inspected the dress.

"It's not terribly hideous though…but what do you think?"

"Turn round," he replied, motioning with his index finger for her to spin.

Althea sighed once more. "Remus, is this necessary?" she asked as she turned.

Remus disregarded her question. "Afina designed this? Amazing," he murmured, rubbing his chin.

Althea tugged at the skirt to lengthen it, but failed. "I do look a bit ridiculous," she commented and bit her bottom lip.

Remus shook his head. "No, not all," he murmured, staring at her legs.

Althea crossed her legs in an attempt to hide their paleness.

"No, it's how you should look."

Althea smiled at his compliment. "Not like a schoolteacher," she replied as she sat next to him. "I don't think I ever wore something so short."

Remus laughed, which startled her. "Yes, you did and this is not short by any means. You wore skirts shorter than this all the time," he explained, leaning back on the sofa.

"Why would you remember how short I wore my skirts?" she asked wryly, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, I wasn't always a stuffy schoolteacher," he replied as Althea sat next to him. "I was a teenage boy once."

"Really," she replied breathlessly and started to snicker as Remus frowned.

"As I was saying, I was a teenage boy once and I do remember a particular Gryffindor girl the same year as myself who wore her skirts very short—"

"Not Lily," she interrupted, "Lily was a good girl."

Remus nodded. "No, this girl was very naughty," he explained, brushing stray hairs away from his face. "In fact, her skirts were _so_ short a few boys would crowd round the table behind her to catch a glimpse of her knickers as she reached for a book on the other side of the table or on a very high shelf," he continued with a small smile.

"And _who_ would these boys be?" she asked, mockingly narrowing her eyes.

Remus screwed his eyes up as if in deep deliberation. "I believe there were four of them and the same year and House as her," he answered thoughtfully.

"Oh, poor Jane—having you four looking at her knickers," she replied with mock ruefulness, shaking her head.

"Like we'd want to look at Jane's knickers," he remarked quickly. "It was you, of course," he added, frowning slightly. "I thought you'd know that."

Althea smiled proudly. "I did, that's why I had so many outrageous kinds," she replied and winked. "I figured it out when I'd bend over and there would be a gasp, or a snicker, or my favorite 'Not my bloody rib, Peter! I can see she's wearing the ones with the unicorns today,'" she added and Remus laughed.

"Yes, Sirius and I would purposefully move certain books to the top shelves so we could see you reach for them," he explained and it was Althea's turn to laugh. "He had a great fondness for hoisting you into the air by your ankle."

"I remember," she mused. "I'd use a Sticking Charm on my skirts, but they never worked."

"Because Sirius would remove the charm and then perform the spell," he explained. "We were surprised to know how many different pairs of knickers you had—I don't think we saw you wear the same pair twice."

"Did you have your favorites?" she asked, resting her head against the back of the sofa.

Remus nodded, looking ahead of him. "Oh yes, I liked the ones with the butterflies that would fly about, but Sirius enjoyed the ones that showed the night sky and sparkled," he admitted, his lips twitching to form a slight smile. "You helped him revise for his Astronomy O.W.L.," he added, submitting to his smile.

"Did I?"

"Yeah, it was the only time he actually revised for an Astronomy exam," he explained, turning his head to face her, "he credited you with his is O. He gasped when he realized where Canis Major would be."

Althea laughed quietly. "It must have been an awful day when McGonagall forced me to uncharm my skirt," she replied and Remus nodded. "She didn't care if it was the style; it was an institution of learning and witches just didn't wear their skirts that short."

"It was an awful day, but by then Sirius would have killed us if we even mentioned your knickers," he said and sighed. "He was the jealous sort."

Althea sensed a slight bitterness in his voice. "Anyway, what is this fixation with me?" she asked, changing the subject. "Didn't you entertain yourselves with other girls at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but you're the only girl worth remembering," he quipped and winked. "Of course, our seventh-years, we did a survey of the entire female seventh-years to find the loveliest girl of Hogwarts. We polled all the seventh-year boys—Slytherin excluded, of course—to determine the loveliest girl."

"'Slytherin excluded,'" she laughed quietly. "I remember…I was voted Best Bottom and Best Legs," she added fondly as Remus developed a puzzled look on his face. "Oh yeah, we knew all about the survey. We had a copy. Let's see, there was Best Tits—that went to Lorraine Rolf…. Then Best Smile—Charlotte Marshall won that…. Lily won Best Eyes—she hated that because she wondered what was wrong with the rest of her…. Patricia West was Best Laugh—of course, she won because she'd laugh at anything…. Most Like to Snog—I wanted that one, but that went to Ursula Rigg…she also won Loveliest Girl," she explained, naming the winners and categories off her fingers. "I was very proud of my Best Bottom and Best Legs, but I really wanted Most Like to Snog."

"We weren't allowed to put you in the Most Like to Snog category," he said with a smile. "Sirius threatened a night in St. Mungo's for anyone who did."

Althea laughed uneasily. "The berk," she muttered and sighed. "Well, I don't think Hogwarts is as fun as it used to be."

"No, it's not like how it used to be," he began with a hint of sadness, "we had more liberties then."

_It was probably because Dumbledore knew so many of us would die_, she thought, smoothing out her skirt. _He wanted us to have our fun before we had to witness the horror Voldemort and his followers could inflict_.

"Yes, we did," she agreed, fiddling with the silver and emerald embroidery on the hem of her skirt. "The horrible influence of Muggle culture…the backlash had to occur sometime."

Remus smiled to himself. "Yes, the horrible influence. You know, you could be singly responsible for the backlash," he teased, folding his arms.

"How so?"

"Oh, with your short skirts and your rock and roll music—shameful to dignified Wizarding society—"

"Don't even start," she interrupted, narrowing her eyes in a mock attempt to scold him. "I wasn't the only student influenced by Muggle culture. Young Wizarding teenagers rebelled against their parents by listening to Muggle music all the time. It was almost a rite of passage for a wizard or witch to go through a Muggle rebellious phase—"

Suddenly, Remus grabbed her shoulders. "Stop sounding like a schoolteacher!" he demanded laughingly, shaking her slightly.

"You're absolutely right," she sighed, frowning. "I've become what I've always feared…a younger version of my aunt."

"No, you're not," he said dismissively, shaking his head. "I'll stop you before I'd let that happen," he added and winked. "You need a holiday—that's all."

Althea closed her eyes and smiled. She needed to leave Hogwarts and travel—to recuperate from the grading and the lecturing, and most of all Sirius Black.

"Mmm, a holiday," she murmured happily and opened her eyes. "You should come with me," she added and tugged at his robes.

"Oh, I don't know, Althea," he replied uneasily. "It's loads of paperwork and hours jockeying at the Registry for the Ministry to authorize for me to leave. I doubt they'd allow it. It is an awful mess to travel anywhere for holiday."

"Shut it, you're coming with me on holiday," she replied shortly, tugging at his sleeve. "It will be loads of fun."

"Loads," he mouthed—a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"Oh, don't frown," she pouted. "You haven't been to Bermuda in ages and I'm an Animagus, so what is the problem?"

"An _unregistered_ Animagus," he corrected.

Althea shrugged. "I'll register, then."

Remus gave her a wary look.

"You've traveled the world—"

"For work—"

"—and a holiday in Bermuda is too much to ask?" she finished and let out a little gasp. "I promise I won't giggle at you in your swimming trunks."

Remus fought his lips trembling into a smile. "That's not—"

"Oh, and I won't sunbathe topless if that will embarrass you."

Remus let out a quiet chuckle. "It's not—"

"I'll invite Afina and that boyfriend of hers—"

Remus sighed loudly. "Right, Althea," he said, placing his hands on Althea's shoulders, which quieted her. "I'll see what I can do," he added and leaned forward. "No promises."

Althea bit her bottom lip.

"Anyway, I brought this for you to see," he said and reached into his robe pocket.

Althea frowned at his insistence on changing the subject. The Ministry did make it very difficult for werewolves to travel, but Remus deserved to live as normal a life as possible. If he were worried about money, she would pay for everything…except maybe that bothered Remus. _I can be so thoughtless at times_, she thought as Remus handed her a scroll of paper.

"What is this?" she asked, unrolling the scroll.

"A paper Prudence wrote," he answered and shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you'd like to read it."

"Yes I would," she replied, smiling, and eagerly unrolled the scroll.

_Her handwriting looks so similar to mine_, she thought as she read the essay. _Thank you, Remus, for allowing me to read her papers_. During Remus's tenure as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he has allowed Althea to glimpse a part of her child's life she thought she would never be able to see. Of course, she was able to watch her daughter from the Head Table at mealtimes, to observe her as they passed in the corridors as both went to their respective classes, or to hear the often, "Well done, Miss Parker," as she walked by the Charms classroom, but none could compare to the ability to touch her daughter. Reading Prudence's essays allowed her to touch her daughter, allowed her to know her daughter's thought process, and allowed her to become closer to her than she ever could.

"Brilliant," she breathed as she continued to read the essay. "Is she still having trouble in your class?" she asked, briefly pausing from reading a sentence.

"Somewhat," he began as Althea started to read again, "however, it's mostly nervousness…. She so wants to prove herself—"

"I don't believe it!" she gasped, tightening her grip on the parchment. "It's a quote from one of my father's books!" she said in humorous surprise. "How did she…" she began, but trailed off, looking to Remus for an explanation.

Remus laughed quietly as he stretched his legs out before him. "I asked her the same question: how did she come by your father's books? She looked very scared when I explained to her those books were advanced for a young age—"

"How could anyone be scared of you?" she laughed, waving her hand dismissively.

"Well, I am an intimidating professor, not to mention I am a werewolf," he explained in a low tone.

_Intimidating_, she thought with amusement, _you're one of the best loved professors at Hogwarts. My students come to my classroom gushing about how wonderful you are, what you let them do, and how much they like you best out of all the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors they've had_.

"Oh, I suppose you are then, but please continue with your conversation with Prudence," she replied teasingly, attempting to suppress a smile.

"Thank you," he said as he nodded slightly, suppressing his own smile. "She explained to me she found them in an older section of the library. According to her, there were many books that no one reads, and some of them were very silly, but she liked his book the best—"

"The best?" she interrupted, frowning somewhat. "Did she say why?"

"No, actually," he replied, furrowing his eyebrows. "Althea, she doesn't know the truth about you."

"I know, but that sort of thing is unnerving," she explained and sighed. "I suppose it's from the influence of the Parkers—her love of books, I mean. Edwina is a fantasy novelist and James is a Medieval Literature Professor…. I used that old section in the library for other purposes," she added and smiled weakly.

"I suppose," he began thoughtfully, "but I see so much of you in Prudence."

Althea's stomach sank at the comparison. She frowned as she rolled the parchment. "I try to ignore everything I see," she replied, handing him the rolled parchment. "Everything I see frightens me, but more so when I'm reminded of her father," she continued and sighed sadly. "I remember the first time I heard her laugh—one breakfast—I couldn't finish my meal. It's not as forceful or loud, but it scares me to think others might recognize it," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't ever want anyone to know who she is."

_I don't care about myself_, she thought, rubbing her hands together nervously in her lap. _I care for Prudence's happiness. If she is to hear the circumstances, I must say it; however, I'm not as bold as I used to be_. To the Wizarding world, Prudence Morrigan had died almost thirteen years ago, and was buried in Northfield cemetery. Althea had made sure of it—an empty grave above which a gravestone that bore Prudence's name and date of birth and death etched in stone. Althea had hoped and had dreaded that her new family would suppress any remainder of her parents' personalities.

She sighed once more and rested the back of her head against the sofa. "There's only so much the Parkers can suppress, you know," she said, staring at the ceiling. "She has the air of confidence he had, which frightens me most of all. It's not all the time though, but it is there…. I noticed it first in the Great Hall…. The way she enters, surveying it with boredom and then flashing her friends a smile or a wink. How many times did we see Sirius do that exactly?"

"Many times, Althea, but she is not Sirius," he replied calmly, shifting his body toward her.

Althea lifted her head. "I know she's not Sirius, but—"

"Prudence isn't Sirius. She has a definite sense of right and wrong—"

"Didn't Sirius at one point, too?" she interrupted and bit her bottom lip. "I have this horrible dream sometimes," she continued, looking at her thin hands. "Prudence proudly stands in front of me and says she's inherited the best from her mummy and daddy…she says this as she's holding a blood-stained knife. I start to panic and cry…I cry as I strangle my own daughter," she explained and sighed heavily. She opened and closed her hands—a few of her joints popping from the movement. "What you must think of me, sometimes," she murmured, smoothing her skirt.

"Althea," he began quietly, but was interrupted by loud laughter and then someone angrily shouting in the corridor. "What is happening outside?" he asked, frowning.

Althea sighed disappointedly. "I really don't want to hand out detentions today," she replied as she stood along with Remus.

_It's not something I enjoy—especially so close to exams_, she thought as she entered the corridor. Upon entering the corridor, Althea gasped and steadied herself against Remus as she observed it was Prudence, with her wand drawn, yelling angrily at some Slytherin first-year. Nervously, she continued to observe her daughter as she refused to yield to the other student. She had observed that same look, that same movement, her fifth-year after Sirius was named to the Gryffindor House Team. She knew that in one movement of the wand, that boy would be thrown across the corridor as she had been thrown during a duel with Sirius her fifth year. _She's inherited what I've most feared_, she thought, swallowing a large breath as Prudence advanced on the young boy.

"What's all this?" Remus asked calmly, but in a loud voice to startle the children.

However, Prudence was not startled and continued to hold her wand directly at the boy's face. "What have I ever done to you?" she asked heatedly. Althea watched her daughter's face darken. "Take back what you said, or I swear I'll hex you," she growled, tightening her grip on her wand.

_At least she gives him warning_, she thought before she intervened.

"Whoa, what's all this?" she asked, placing her hand on Prudence's shoulder.

Prudence's shoulder shuddered slightly as she must have realized professors had arrived. Frowning, Prudence looked up at Althea, which caused Althea to take in an unsteady breath.

"There'll be no hexing today," she added regaining her composure and shaking her head disapprovingly. "So put your wands away, the both of you."

Both students nodded and stuffed their wands in their robe pockets. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Remus shuffled the other students from the corridor.

"Now," she began, looking from one student to the other, "what is the meaning of all this?"

"He took something from me, professor," Prudence said quickly before the other student could speak.

"He took something from you?" she repeated and Prudence nodded.

"Yes, and when I asked for it back he had called me that horrible word," she added and bit her lip.

"Horrible word?" Althea asked.

Prudence nodded. She inhaled deeply and spoke, "Mu—"

"Whoa," Althea said, holding up her hands, "I understand."

_I'll hex that little bastard myself_.

Althea fought against her instincts when she advised, "But it's not worth hexing someone over, is it? Now apologize the both of you and be done with it."

Prudence groaned and rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she murmured, kicking her heel against the stone floor.

The Slytherin boy folded his arms. "Do you think I'm going to apologize to a _her_?" he asked. "My father will hear—"

"You!" Prudence growled, lunging forward; however, Althea was ready to catch her.

Remus quickly went to reprimand the boy as Althea held onto the struggling Prudence.

"No—there'll—be—no—fighting—today," she forced out as Prudence wiggled underneath her grip. "Just calm down, he's not worth it," she whispered in Prudence's ear.

Breathing heavily, Prudence stopped struggling and Althea reluctantly let go.

"Now, apologize to Miss Parker or _I will_ take points from your House," she said and the boy balked. "Do it."

"Can't handle a simple squabble Morrigan…or Lupin?" Snape asked and Althea's head jolted backward.

"Your student won't apologize," she replied coolly as both students now looked at Snape, who had arrived without detection. "Snape, please discipline your student," she added, standing closer to Remus, who had joined her side.

Althea noticed an odd gleam in Snape's eyes, which caused her to frown. What was Snape thinking? _He enjoys his authority too much_, she thought, eyeing Snape warily.

Snape smiled somewhat, showing the tips of his yellow, uneven teeth. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he said shortly and Prudence huffed.

_No, don't do anything stupid, Prudence_, she thought as she placed her hand on Prudence's shoulder and shook her head. Prudence bit her lip and reluctantly backed down.

"That was not what I meant," she replied, frowning. "We do not tolerate abhorrent name-calling and disobedience. Miss Parker had apologized for her behavior, but your student refused."

Snape's smile widened as if he had been waiting for this moment to reply, "What? Bla—_Parker_ lunged at Mr. Powell."

The blood quickly drained from Althea's face at Snape's intentional mistake. "Fine," she replied, her voice higher than usual. She cleared her throat before she continued, "Ten points will be deducted from Slytherin as well. Now, please return what you took from Miss Parker and all will be settled."

Althea noticed Prudence's hands start to tremble as Powell spoke, "I was taking the paper to Professor Snape. It's very important that he look at it."

The boy reached into his robes and produced a folded piece of parchment. With a look of triumph directed at Prudence, the boy handed Snape the folded parchment. Quickly, Snape unfolded the parchment, his pallid skin becoming more ashen as he looked at the parchment. _What did you do Prudence_, Althea thought, watching Snape's lips thin and contort into an awful sneer.

"Look at this," Snape demanded coldly, handing Althea the piece of parchment.

Looking at Prudence, her eyes slowly left her daughter and met the parchment. Althea winced as she read the cartoon and did not know if she should groan or laugh at it. _Oh, Prudence_, she thought, looking at the caricature of Snape, _how could you be so stupid_? In the cartoon, Snape, in a green polka dot dress, continuously admired himself in a large mirror in Madam Malkin's shop. As he twirled, a small caption appeared next to him as he lamented that he would much rather wear the aqua dress as it brought out the yellowness of his teeth. _Your father would be very proud of this_, she thought as she folded the parchment, _and unfortunately, I am somewhat proud too_.

"So?" Snape sneered as he beady eyes bore into Althea's skin.

Althea looked from the parchment to Prudence, who was looking at Althea with a mixture of fear and hope—hope that Althea would protect her from Snape. Whatever feelings of academic or moral obligation to uphold the rules of Hogwarts she had, she forgot them as her daughter timidly waited for Althea to respond. She would not hesitate to help her daughter and improve her opinion in her daughter's eyes.

Althea frowned thoughtfully as she looked at Snape. "You think she drew this?" she asked, slightly waving the parchment.

"There is no question this was drawn by Parker, Morrigan," he replied with perceptible anger.

Snape opened his mouth to speak again, but Althea swiftly interrupted with the utmost calmness, "This cartoon, it is very clever, but it can't be the work of a twelve-year-old girl—the magic to do such a drawing is advanced." She unfolded the parchment, gazed at the twirling and gushing Snape in the cartoon, and bit her lip as not to laugh. "I think, she found this somewhere," she explained, looking at Prudence knowingly.

Prudence's eyes immediately registered the understanding of Althea's plan.

"Did you find this somewhere?"

Prudence nodded. "I found it on the floor at the start of Potions," she explained, not taking her eyes away from Althea. "I didn't want the professor to become upset and I decided to throw it away myself, but I wasn't able to as Powell took it from me," she finished and Althea noticed Prudence fighting a smirk developing across her face.

_I shouldn't be defending her_, she thought as Prudence bit her bottom lip, _she'll only learn how to get away with things. How many times would I have pulled a stunt like this—lying to a professor? Sirius probably would have admitted to drawing the picture and that he didn't have the time to finish it... It's too late to change the plan now, though_.

"See, Sniv—Severus," she began, turning her attention to Snape, "it was all innocence. She wanted to dispose of the cartoon as not to upset you and interrupt the class."

"Innocence," he sneered, his eyes flickering to Prudence. "Coming to the defense of Parker, rather _motherly_ of you, Morrigan."

He smiled as Althea felt her face pale once more.

Taking a deep breath, she felt the color return to her face. "Well, it's settled, then? The children will be on their ways and the cartoon will be destroyed," she said, placing her hands on Prudence's shoulders to direct her away from Snape. "Good day, Snape," she said, over her shoulder as she walked with Prudence.

"Thank you, Professor," she whispered as the two walked by Althea's office door.

Althea stopped and faced Prudence. "I know you drew that cartoon—no, don't interrupt—I know you drew the cartoon and charmed it so Professor Snape would say those things," she explained, looking into Prudence's grey eyes.

Prudence's eyes widened and her mouth contorted in amazement. "How did you know I drew that?" she asked, looking from Althea to the parchment in Althea's hand.

"Never mind," she began, continuing to look into Prudence's eyes. "Just be more careful. You can draw those pictures, but leave them up in your dormitory. The next time I won't be able to help you, right?" she continued and Prudence nodded—her expression transforming to one of guilt. "Please, think before you act…it is _not_ worth a detention with Professor Snape, all right?" she finished and Prudence frowned. "Believe me."

"I will, Professor," she answered and looked at the parchment in Althea's hand. "I suppose I won't have the cartoon back, then?" she said, pointing to the parchment.

"No," she sighed, shaking her head, "I'm afraid I can't let you have it back. Now, go outside and have some fun."

"Thank you, Professor."

Althea watched as Prudence walked to far end of the corridor and turned out of sight.

"I'll give those points back in tomorrow's lesson," Remus whispered.

Once more, Althea unfolded the parchment and this time she laughed as she gazed at the picture. "Very good likeness, don't you think, Remus?" she remarked as she felt him walk to her side.

Remus peered over her arm and looked at the cartoon. "A remarkable likeness," he replied, his mouth twitching into a smile, "but I doubt she learned her lesson though, Althea."

"I know," she sighed, folding the parchment. She decided she would place the cartoon in a picture frame and keep it in her quarters. "However, I do think she felt a bit guilty," she said and smiled. "Anyway, go back to my office?"

Before Remus could answer, Snape interrupted—his eyes flashing with anger. "Morrigan!"

"Yes, Snape?" she asked sweetly.

"I have a good mind to tell Dumbledore of your relaxation of school rules," he replied and sneered. "When it comes to your lot you do have a soft spot for troublemakers."

"Oh come off it, Snape," she laughed and rolled her eyes. "This cartoon has Weasley all over it."

"It's not Weasley," he replied shortly and pointed to the parchment in Althea's hand. "The source is more arrogant."

"Arrogant?" she remarked and laughed. "She apologized for her part, but your student didn't. Come on, Remus, let's leave so he can sulk," she added, eyeing Snape for one last time before walking toward her office door.

"I don't know why you took such offense to Powell's name-calling—"

"Such offense?" she said, her eyes widening. "God, I have such an urge to hoist you into the—"

"_Althea_," Remus warned, talking hold of Althea's wand arm.

"I believe it is less _abhorrent_ to say than the daughter of a mass murderer."

The muscles of Althea's body constricted and she fought every urge to blast Snape across the corridor. He would take out his anger not upon Althea, but upon Prudence and upon Remus. Althea was incapable of brewing Wolfsbane. _After the Leaving Feast her seventh year, I will hex him down every corridor and every staircase_, she thought. She turned away from a gloating Snape and rested her hand upon her office door handle.

"No, I've watched her this entire year," he said with palpable disgust. "Just like her father—arrogant, reckless, a bully."

"Severus, you know that is not true," Remus implored. "Come on, Althea, let's go into your office," he whispered calmly.

"I can't let him say those things about her," she whispered, looking at the door handle—it needed to be polished.

"He is only saying it to upset you," he continued quietly and calmly. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

"I know," she snapped, opening her door and took a step.

"I wonder," Snape began, as Althea took another step into her office, "if she will take after him in other areas."

A chill ran up and down Althea's spine causing her to shiver. "Remus, I can't let that go," she whispered, stopping in her doorway.

"You have to, Althea," he replied, gently coaxing her through the doorway.

Althea briefly resisted, but relented. What good would come of blasting Snape across the corridor? Momentary satisfaction, but he would make life at Hogwarts hell for Prudence. _He might even tell her she's adopted_, she thought, her arms dropping heavily to at her sides. Remus shut the door behind him and directed Althea toward her sofa. Althea sat and rested her head in her hands.

"How did he know?" Althea asked and moaned into her palms. "Why would he say such things if he didn't know?"

She heard Remus sigh.

"I think I want to be alone for a while," she whispered, not looking up.

"I understand," he said, gently stroking the back of her head. "If you need anything—"

Althea nodded.

Remus kissed the top of her head.

She listened for Remus to leave and to shut the door. Upon hearing the door close, Althea started to cry violently. _I'm so pathetic_, she thought, tugging at the roots of her hair. _Why must he point out where I fail_?


	55. London, Salisbury House, October 1984

**London, Salisbury House, October 1984**

_Where the bloody hell am I_, she thought as she awoke, fiercely rubbing her forehead.

Slowly opening her eyes, she scanned the flat bedroom or hotel room—she was unsure of where she slept. A few photographs and costly paintings covered the pale green walls—wherever it was, it was comfortable. _I don't remember how I got here_, she thought, noticing her clothes in a crumpled pile on the floor, _but I know what happened_. Stretching, she turned her head to the side and noticed her partner for the night—a man with tousled blond hair—lying on his stomach, his head buried in his pillow. As she yawned, she attempted to remember his name. She was so drunk, so strung out on refined poppy juice, she wondered if she ever knew his name at all. _Who the hell is he_, she thought as the man continued to snore softly into his pillow. _Jake? No, John. No, Jack—that's it, Jack. Right, chatted him up in that private pub Allegra told me about. We left the private pub and entered the opium den upstairs_, she thought, sitting up as she became increasingly queasy. _Bloody hell, I'd thought I'd quit that stuff_.

As she sat up, Jack began to stir. Sitting up, he smoothed the hair away from his handsome face and smiled. "Morning," he murmured happily.

Althea smiled and went to stand.

"Where do you think you're going?" he teased, pulling her back into bed.

_He's one of those types_, she thought, as she allowed him to pull her back to bed, _I should have left earlier_. As she rested her head against the pillow, she noticed a tattoo of a skull and snake on his forearm, which caused her stomach to tense; suddenly, she remembered why she was there. _He is so handsome too…pity_, she thought, frowning slightly. Unfortunately, last night she had become sidetracked with alcohol and refined poppy juice, she had forgotten. This was the first time she had let the intoxicating concoction cloud her mind from her business. She had planned his death like all the others—stalk him, observe his movements, his habits, and then, kill him. His death would be a little different, though, like the filth he was—killing an entire family deserved special treatment. Once drunk, she would entice him with some illicit tryst in a dingy back alley, and slash his throat—leaving him to die among the garbage and grime. Now she had to change her plan—her knife was in her robe pocket and no gutter to leave him to die.

Jack rested his arm across her waist, which allowed her to look at the Dark Mark. _I can't believe after all these years he would have something like this and not hide it_, she thought as Jack kissed her shoulder. _He's either bold or stupid. It hasn't faded, too…not like the others, theirs were almost gone and one was gone_.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, stoking his forearm where the Dark Mark was tattooed into his skin.

"Never you mind," he murmured, kissing her collarbone.

"No, it's interesting," she replied, tracing the outline of the skull.

Jack lifted his head and looked into Althea's eyes. "Interesting?" he repeated smugly, smiling at her. "It's more than interesting."

Althea looked from the Dark Mark back to his eyes. "So, it means something very special to you?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Oh yes," he murmured and kissed her collarbone again.

Althea sighed and pushed him away, causing a visible look of disappointment across his face. "I wish I could, but I have business to attend to," she said, stroking the hair away from his face.

He sighed and took her hand in his. "I suppose…I could see you again sometime?" he asked and kissed the back of Althea's hand.

"Possibly," she replied, with a slight smile, as she stood.

Jacked rested his head against his propped up hand. "Possibly isn't good enough," he replied smoothly. "You've bewitched me, Miss Martin," he added, smiling smugly.

Althea smiled to herself as she successfully hooked the first bra hook. "I don't think there's such a thing," she said as she had some difficulty with the last hook.

"I disagree, Eudora," he replied as Althea picked up her black robes from the soft, moss-colored carpet.

Althea shook her head and smiled at the young man's attitude toward her. "I think you," she began to explain as she slipped her robes over her head, "had too much refined poppy juice," she finished as she cleared the robes over her head.

"No, I don't think so," he replied, smiling, watching as Althea adjusted her robes. "No, I believe it is more sinister."

Althea smiled with feigned innocence. "Sinister?" she questioned, slipping her hand into her robe pocket. Her smile widened as her fingers caressed the knife handle.

Jack nodded. "Yes, sinister," he answered as Althea sat next to him on the bed. Jack took her left hand in his. "How is it that I could miss such an enchanting, sensual pure-blooded witch?" he asked and forcefully kissed the back of her hand.

"You haven't described what is sinister," she murmured, leaning closer to him as her other hand slowly pulled out the knife from her robe pocket.

"You," he replied, pulling her closer.

"Me?" she whispered, allowing her lips to brush lightly across his. She quickly pulled away as she felt his lips meet hers and smiled mischievously.

"Mhmm," he murmured, taking hold of her right arm, causing Althea to loose her grip on her knife—it falling back inside her pocket. He placed her arms around his neck as he continued, "You've cursed me, haven't you? Or put love potion in my wine."

_Oh bugger all_, she thought and sighed with small frustration. _I should just slit his throat to shut him up_.

However, she would not get her chance to silence Jack as his house-elf had entered the bedroom. "Master, Kirby brought you lunch," the elf said as the silver tray shook in his hands.

Jack frowned as he pulled away from Althea and reached for a book on the nightstand. "You accursed elf!" he scolded, retracting his arm to throw the book at the trembling house-elf.

"No!" Althea gasped, grabbing Jack's arm. "It wasn't his fault. He didn't know I'd be here," she implored and Jack dropped the book from his hand. "I should leave anyway; I have so much business to attend to, but I promise we will meet again," she finished and kissed his lips.

"When?" he asked, attempting a casual eagerness in his voice.

"Soon," she smiled as she stood. "I'll owl you for a meeting."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, then," she replied and exited the bedroom.

_Enjoy your last day, Jack_, she thought as she descending the staircase amid Jack's shouting at his house-elf.

* * *

Althea, in the early evening, returned home, but home was no longer the cottage at Northfield. She had left Northfield and wandered Britain, sleeping in abandoned nests, under roof awnings, in a few trees, anywhere she could get close to those she tracked. However, after a night of hedonism and debauchery, Althea collapsed in front of the Salisbury House where Madame Allegra White, noticing that Althea had collapsed in her doorway, took her into her home. That night, a gracious Allegra cared for the drunken Althea and nursed her to sobriety. Once sober, the successful middle-aged witch offered Althea a flat above the Salisbury House and the enticing offer as her personal Healer. The Salisbury House, established in 1674, was the esteemed and premier private club of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain. For centuries, the greatest minds and talents in Britain gathered at the Salisbury House for sundry entertainments and discussions. Ministers, philosophers, adventurers all stepped through the storied corridors and drawing rooms of the Salisbury House. Indeed, from the exotically and lavishly decorated rooms of the private meeting house, the essence of what it meant to be magic was debated, the seeds of the Statute of Secrecy were planted, and the _Cairn Alley Review_—the most respected literary magazine—was created. Althea, the quiet, unassuming companion of Allegra, who kept to herself, was privy to all sorts of salacious details, for wizards and witches supplied with alcohol and other comforts would divulge many secrets—from former Death Eaters, to corruption in the Ministry, to which Quidditch players had illegally enhanced their brooms. She would prefer this method of tracking, indeed. However, Althea could not afford Allegra to know her true name or the name she was known by in the Wizarding papers. She gave her name as Eudora Martin, a young disenchanted witch—a Healer broken by the war—that lost her way in the sometimes cruel Wizarding world.

As she walked upstairs, Althea passed a few of the women entertaining a group of young wizards with song and accompaniment as others plied them with drink and conversation. The gossip columnist for the _Daily Prophet_, Hedda Winchell, held court in one of the small sitting rooms. All were enthralled with Ms. Winchell's story of the dalliance between Celestina Warbeck and the coach for the Wimbourne Wasps, but Allegra. She looked bored—exhaustingly so—her eyes fought to keep open. Althea paused upon the staircase, which caught Allegra's attention. Allegra looked up, her eyes met Althea, and she smiled. She discretely beckoned for Althea to come forward, but Althea shook her head. In her clothes from the evening before, she did not want to be subjected to the stares and comments of Winchell and her court. She continued on and listened to the laughter filter up the staircase as one of the patrons accused another of cheating at their game of cards.

Upon entering her room, she headed for her bathroom, turned on the bathtub tap, and undressed, anticipating the warm and comforting water. She had failed in her attempt to kill Jack. How could she have been so stupid? _No, no more refined poppy juice_, she thought, gently sliding into the warm bathwater and bubbles. _I don't know if I'll ever have that great of an opportunity to kill Jack again.… Why was I so stupid to take refined poppy juice? I don't know how many people saw me with him now. There will be more of a trail this time. How will I accomplish it now? I'll think of something and owl him…he was so bloody eager_. Althea laughed to herself and slipped underneath the soothing bathwater. _Bloody eager, indeed_.

Surfacing, Althea opened her eyes and noticed Allegra enter her bathroom. She was a woman of average height and average looks, but compensated for her deficiencies by wearing exquisite and expensive robes. Today she wore violet robes that produced silver sparkles across the fabric with every movement.

"Eudora, Eudora, what _did_ you do last night?" she commented in her slow, but refined voice as she sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"I had work," she muttered, smoothing the hair from her face.

Allegra laughed quietly as she took some bubbles from the bathwater into her hand. "Rough work, I see…" she began and gently blew the bubbles from her hands.

Althea frowned slightly.

"You're a beautiful girl, Eudora—well, except for that red hair, but that's easily remedied. But you are a beautiful girl—look younger than you are…well, when you're not drunk. No, you should have the affections of many _rich_ wizards," she explained and stroked the side of Althea's face.

"I don't want the affections of rich wizards," she replied, turning her face away. "I don't want the affections of anyone."

"But isn't that what every witch wants…to marry rich?" she asked, gently turning Althea's face toward hers. "To find love?"

"You don't know me very well, do you?" she replied, refusing to look at Allegra.

Allegra removed her hand from Althea's face and stroked a stray fiery curl behind Althea's ear. "I was like you, Eudora, angry—unbelievably angry," she began in earnest, running her fingertips along Althea's jaw. "I cursed the Fates for bringing me such despair, but with time, I took that anger and turned it to power. I decided that my life would be on my own terms. I didn't need my father's family," she explained and stood from where she sat on the edge of the bathtub. As she walked over to the bench where Althea's towels were neatly folded, she continued, "You know what I—"

Althea slid underneath the water—the sound of Allegra's voice dull and garbled. She opened her eyes. The glow of the candlelight shimmered above her head. She thought of remaining under the water, but the innate panicked sensation in her chest forced her above water where loudly gasped a breath. Althea brought her knees to her chest.

"I know what you did last night," she said, unfolding one of the towels. "You met some handsome wizard down the pub and he took you back to his flat," she continued, and held up the towel for Althea. "What did you get out of it, Miss Martin?"

Althea hesitated before she stood. What had she gotten out of it? _The opportunity to sleep with not one but two Death Eaters in my life_, she thought as she stood, allowing Allegra to wrap the towel around her. Althea wrapped the towel around her hair and slipped her arms through her robe sleeves.

"Come," Allegra said softly and motioned with her hand for Althea to sit at her dressing table. Allegra removed the towel and started to comb Althea's hair. "Has your hair always been this red?" she asked, combing through a particularly tough tangle.

Althea nodded.

"Well, that would be easy to charm away…I will have you borrow my robes—the scarlet for tonight," she continued to murmur as she combed Althea's hair. "Your robes aren't as fine."

"What are you getting at?" Althea asked, turning to face Allegra. "I bought a new frock for tonight—"

Allegra smiled. "Black hair, I think," she murmured and turned Althea's head to continue to comb her hair. "Yes, with your eyes."

"I like my red hair," she said as Allegra charmed her hair to its natural color of black.

_Damn, she's not listening_, she thought as Allegra dried her hair. _What is she getting at_? She began to adorn Althea's hair with jeweled hair slides, frowning, removing, and placing them to her liking.

"Black hair is stunning and even more beautiful with the jewels in your hair—less wild, I think," she said, inspecting Althea. "You'll do nicely…for his sort," she murmured. "Intelligent, thoughtful—"

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Allegra sat before Althea and took her hands in hers. "I need you," she said solemnly, looking into Althea's eyes. "There is someone downstairs that needs you—"

"Are they ill?"

Allegra pursed her lips. "Yes," she said, her thumbs caressed Althea's hands, "you could say he is ill."

Althea frowned thoughtfully. "Does it require St. Mungo's? I could—"

Allegra shook her head. "It is too late for that," she said and swallowed, "too late."

She felt a cold jolt to the pit of her stomach. "Is he dead?"

Allegra laughed a little too loudly. "No, no, of course, not," she said and smiled at Althea. "His uncle—I met him when he was a student studying the ruins—a great friend to me…it is a pity such a family would fade so quickly." She seemed to look through their clasped hands. "I understand, I think."

"What's wrong with him?"

She looked up at Althea, her eyes pleading. "Will you talk with him?" she asked and pressed her hands. "You, you who can calm the fire of my belly?" she continued, placing her hand upon her stomach in dramatic fashion.

Althea fought the urge to sigh.

"None will talk with him—"

"Why—"

"—intimidated by him, I think," she said and bit her bottom lip. "A keen intellectual."

The muffled noises of an excited conversation could be heard—Althea would need to charm the floorboards once more. A keen intellectual? Althea groaned internally at the thought of spending her evening with a dull wizard. Tonight, the Salisbury hosted the Gathering of the Seven, a celebration in honor of the club's founding members. Althea longed for the night of music, dance, and wit—of dignitaries and magical influencers. It was there she met Apollyon Hare without his mask. She felt an exquisite rush when he did not remember her as he held her in conversation. He was at her mercy and she would delight in showing him the same courtesy. He was discovered two days later in his library; his throat slashed and his belly full of Galleons that Althea had forced him to eat. How strange the bounty on her head was more than the price he paid to stay out of Azkaban.

"I can't," she replied, looking into the slightly disappointed eyes of Allegra. "There has to be—"

Allegra shook her head.

"There has to be someone."

"No, Eudora," she replied quietly. "Please, just talk with him, please," she pleaded, resting her hands on Althea's knees. "You will do well, I think. I hadn't seen him since he was a small boy…but I knew it was him…looks so much like my dear Francis—"

"But—"

Allegra's nostrils flared faintly at Althea's continued refusal.

Althea sighed with frustration—Allegra would not accept another refusal. The man needed someone to talk to, he was lonely, and Althea knew the power loneliness could hold over a person. Out of her periphery, she glimpsed the sliver frame that housed a photograph of Remus standing before the Amazon River. His pleasant features held slight disapproval.

"I won't go out with him—"

An odd shiver passed over Allegra's face. "I wouldn't want you to," she said quickly, her face still pale. "No, no, while he is very much the intellectual…he is out of place somewhat—"

"Does he smell?" she asked, removing Allegra's hands from her lap. "Is that it?"

"Heavens, no," she replied, standing.

Allegra leaned against the dressing table. She picked up the silver picture frame at her side. Her eyes widened faintly—a fleeting look of recognition. Althea leaned forward, feeling tightness in her belly as the woman studied the photograph of her friend. She had the urge to smack the frame from Allegra's hands, but thought better of it.

"He's a good boy," she continued, replacing the frame to its former position. "But lost," she added, picking up the bottle of foundation, "as you were."

Althea swallowed at the thought of anyone in the same predicament as her.

"What does one talk about?" she asked as Allegra blended the foundation into Althea's skin. "I don't want to upset him."

Her lips twitched into a smile. "Oh, the politics of the day, literature, forms of art," she answered as she finished blending the foundation on Althea's cheeks. "The sorts of things a hostess of a salon should provide—light and entertaining," she continued as she applied blush to Althea's cheeks. "Ingrid is such a lovely pianist."

"I bet she is," she muttered as Allegra stopped to inspect her work.

Allegra sighed as she patted the powder puff into the face powder. "You vex me, Eudora," she said, patting the powder with more vigor.

"Vex you?"

She nodded. "You have so much, and yet, you do so very little," she said and dusted the powder upon Althea's nose. "You're an accomplished young woman. One must be to attempt the Healing Arts."

Althea endeavored not to sneeze from the copious amounts of powder Allegra used. _I had it taken away from me_, she thought as she applied pale purple eye shadow to Althea's right eye. _All those damn Healers cared about was Sirius escorting me home_.

"But before that, your mannerisms as well. You are not a common witch, Miss Martin."

Althea felt her cheeks flush at Allegra's knowing look.

"The purple is lovely," she whispered as she examined the newly applied eye shadow. "Complements you well—I wish you wore it more," she said and lifted the tube of mascara. "So beautiful, and yet—" She sighed. "There was something about him," she said, her eyes fixated upon herself swirling the mascara wand in the tube. "This one, this one…he's like you…well-educated, refined, a gentleman," she continued and sighed, her look strained. "Tragic."

Althea gently bit her bottom lip.

"I would myself," she said as she held the mascara wand to Althea's eyelashes, "but tonight is the Gathering, and he didn't come for me…he came for you." Her fingertips brushed Althea's cheek. "It is fate."

"And the Minister is here—"

Allegra fought a smile. "I've heard you play and I know what books you read," she said as she finished applying mascara. "You are my most beloved confidant," she said and kissed Althea's forehead. "He longs for that gentle company, I am sure of it."

Althea shrugged. "Play some Beethoven and be done with it?"

"You are so callous," she said, her lips curving into a smile. "It is an honor to spend time with you—don't pout—an honor."

"An honor?" she murmured.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, an honor," she said as she inspected her work. "Don't ever forget that."

Allegra left Althea alone as she went to collect a set of her robes. Althea turned toward the mirror of her dressing table. _An honor to spend time with me? No, there is no honor there_, she thought as she examined herself in the mirror. She looked so different with her black hair—as if it were a false mirror and she were observing a strange woman. What she had become, the despicable and callous woman, was absent from her reflection. She was Althea Morrigan: the failed Healer, the failed mother, and the sad, duped lover of a man who sought her death.

The Remus in the photograph waved and the movement caught Althea's eye. She studied her suntanned friend with the pleasant smile. He still wrote to her of his travels and the tone of his letters were light, but toward the end of every letter was the gentle, brotherly encouragement she had come to expect from his letters. She felt as if she were a child. How would Remus know what was best for her? She was alone. Althea's shoulders rolled forward. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and flipped over the picture frame.

* * *

The night was a disappointment. It was a great success for Allegra as the Gathering of the Seven had the largest attendance in five years. In the drawing room, the editor for the _Daily Prophet_ debated the transparency of the current Ministry government and the editor for _New Witch_ held a lively discussion about the influence of the Muggle feminist movement; in the conservatory, Ingrid played, 'Nymphadora for Violin'; and the poet Noel read from his work _Passion of the Moonlight_. However, Althea spent very little time enjoying them for she spent much of the night ducking in and out of rooms and cupboards to avoid Alexander Star and his Orpheus band mates. _So, the Keeper for the Tornadoes thinks I'm mad_, she thought and finally tossed the pruning shears in the drawer of the sideboard. _Loads better than Alexander announcing to the world that, in fact, my true name is Althea_. In dodging Star and his mates, Althea had forgotten about the young man Allegra had begged her to talk to, for the crowd would obscure a moping, sickly wizard, and she assumed he left. _She won't be happy with me_, she thought, tapping her nails against the tabletop. _But, if he didn't want my help, or anyone's company, what am I to do_?

"Oh Davina," she heard Alexander Star sing, "with your eyes of ocean's blue—"

Althea's eyes snapped open. "Blood hell!" she breathed and soon heard the footsteps to her right.

Althea lurched forward to the door next to the sideboard, which rattled the pewter Centaur upon the tabletop. She spun and grasped the door handle as Rex Stardust joined in harmony. Quickly, she turned the doorknob, let out a noise of triumph as it opened, and flung herself through the doorway. She hastily eased the door shut, and once closed, she let out a large sigh. She listened for Alexander Star to pass. _Just brilliant_, she thought, staring at the door, _bloody brilliant_. What was she supposed to do now? Her eyes focused upon the wood grain. One day, the ruse would stumble. She needed a holiday. _Bermuda_, she thought, and her stomach knotted upon itself as to how she would take leave from Allegra. _She'd insist she'd come along_.

Althea took in her surroundings as she turned toward the center of the ornately decorated room. Gas lamps glowed against richly textured scarlet drapes and cast shadows across the multitude of overstuffed violet and scarlet pillows that adorned the floor, the sofas, and chairs. Althea smirked. _Maybe if I move against the wall I'll blend in_, she thought, biting her bottom lip. _Alexander would never discover me here_. Continuing to look around the room, she noticed the young wizard sitting on the overstuffed sofa facing the large window with his back toward her. He hadn't moved and Althea thought her entrance into the room would have startled him. _That must be him_, she thought, looking at the back of his head. _The man Allegra wanted me to talk to_. It was sad to think the young wizard had spent his evening alone when there was so much joyous company to be had. Inhaling and exhaling a slow, but deep breath, Althea took a step forward, which caused the floorboard to creak loudly underneath her jeweled shoe. The sound startled the young wizard and he quickly turned around to face Althea.

Wide-eyed, Althea took in a sharp, sudden breath. "Remus!"

The same amount of shock registered across Remus's face as he looked at Althea. She noticed the flush to Remus's skin. Remus roughly rubbed his cheek—his look, panicked.

"Al—Althea? Althea! What are you doing here?" he asked, walking toward her.

_Oh, how could this get any worse_, she thought, and feeling lightheaded, closed her eyes. He would never call her Eudora. He would never play along. He might turn her into the Ministry himself—he was that noble sort. Althea's stomach lurched forward. It all made sense now—Allegra's pleading—she had noticed the photograph of Remus upon her dressing table. She knew they were friends and might have assumed more. She growled quietly at the deception.

Althea opened her eyes to Remus's mortified expression. "What are you doing here?" he asked and, hesitated, as if he were about to vomit. "You—"

"She told me you were here," she lied and forced a weak smile. "Knew you were a friend—"

"Do not lie to me," he said and swallowed, "you—"

"I swear. It was just…" she said and sighed, looking to her jeweled shoes. "I'm her _Healer_, but that's all," she said and raised an eyebrow. She felt a wave of understanding at Allegra's apprehension. "Were you expecting—what are _you_ doing here?"

Remus frowned. "No, what _exactly_ are you doing in this very room?"

"I ask you that very same question, Remus," she said, folding her arms. "What _exactly_ are you doing in this very room? You can't afford the membership—"

"My uncle," he said shortly and his lips thinned. "It's just like you isn't it—"

"Don't you dare think of scolding me," she said and sniffed. She jerked her head back for Remus's breath reeked of alcohol. "Good Lord, Remus, have you had something to drink?"

"Yes, yes, just a little," he answered quickly, waving his hand at her dismissively.

Althea's eyes glanced at the table next to the sofa on which a half-empty bottle of wine rested with an empty glass. "You've had more than a little," she remarked, frowning slightly. "Remus Lupin, I don't believe you," she said with astonishment. "What has happened to you?"

"Don't you dare scold me!" he warned, breaking away from her.

Althea took a small step backward. He had never spoken to her so harshly. Remus's pale eyes were pensive. She observed him fully as he massaged the back of his neck. His hair was the longest she had ever seen it and slightly unkempt. His robes were worn and the hems of his sleeves frayed. He had not fared better in the years since they had parted.

"Remus?"

"And it's you," he whispered and laughed bitterly, rubbing his jaw, "bloody perfect."

"Remus?"

"Is there somewhere we could go?" he asked, looking ahead of him.

"Yes, of course, is everything all right?"

"No, Althea," he said, his eyes darted from side to side. He leaned forward, "But there is a place?"

"Yes, my flat—it's upstairs."

"Good," he said, offering his hand to Althea. "Take me, please."

_Alexander Star be damned_, she thought as she took Remus's hand. The two left the room and the couple maneuvered their way through the corridors and crowds, with Althea tightly holding onto Remus's hand. The music and conservation seemed to blur into one unintelligible sound. What an odd couple they seemed: Althea lavishly dressed for the celebration and Remus dressed as though he had come from an expedition. The attendees didn't seem to mind or didn't notice, but Althea still held onto Remus's hand and shielded him, protectively so.

"You're not in trouble, are you?" she asked as she led him toward the door that led him to the flat above.

"It's a different sort of trouble."

"You didn't bite someone?" she asked as the two walked the staircase to her bedroom.

"No, I didn't."

"You didn't get a girl pregnant?"

Remus laughed quietly for a moment. "No, I didn't," he explained as they reached the top of the staircase. "I'll tell you when we are in your flat."

_What sort of trouble could he be in_, she thought, as she unlocked her flat door. _If it's financial—that is no problem. I'll pay for anything…. Oh, Remus, please be all right…let one of us be all right_. Althea led Remus to her bed and motioned for him to sit down. Remus sighed sadly and looked around Althea's flat.

"It's not as ornate as downstairs," she said uneasily and bit her lip. "Remus, what is—"

"Why were you in that room?" he interrupted, turning his attention back to Althea. "No lies. No questions. Why? Did you know? Did you think—"

"I didn't," she blurted out, "I swear."

Remus remained silent.

"I was escaping Alexander Star," she explained and Remus let out a quiet, knowing laugh of spite. "I wanted to enjoy the celebration, but everywhere I went, he seemed to be," she continued and leaned close. "Noel is here, _reading_ his poem, and if I were to bed anyone, it would be him."

Remus gave her a wary look.

"It's not that sort of—"

"I know," he said. "I spent much of my childhood here," he continued and folded his hands in his lap. "My uncle would take me Saturdays to hear Aurelia Cavendish speak. I've known Allegra for as long as I can remember…she and my uncle were lovers."

Althea remained quiet.

"I thought—I just wanted," he said and sighed, "help."

She felt a jolt in the pit of her stomach.

"Pathetic," he whispered.

"I have your photograph," she said and pointed to her dressing table. "She must've realized that I knew you. Did she know?"

Remus shook her head. "She thought the boy my uncle tried to save was killed," he said, his eyes focused upon his hands. "She didn't know what I was until tonight."

Althea slipped her hand over his and squeezed it.

"I saw the fear and the repulsion upon her face…I felt it," he said and removed her hand from his.

Althea imagined Allegra clutching her throat and muttering in Italian to the Fates, to the gods, and to her beloved Francis.

"But she didn't order you to leave?" she said, watching as the light from the gas lamps caught the jewels of her shoes.

"No, no, she would never," he said, shaking his head.

Althea frowned. "Why return to London? I thought you were in Borneo—"

"I had to return," he replied, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. "I was ordered to return."

She slid herself closer to him. "Did something happen?"

Remus, refusing to look at her, inhaled a slow, steady breath and frowned as he exhaled. "I was marked this afternoon," he answered, still looking away from her.

Althea did not understand. What did he mean by marked?

"Marked?" she repeated, furrowing her eyebrows. "Remus, look at me, I'm not sure if I understand."

"What is there to understand?" he snapped as he looked at her. "I was branded like an animal."

Althea opened and quickly closed her mouth, realizing she could say nothing. Remus was never one for pity.

"I was so stupid, Althea. I actually _thought_ I had a chance of living a normal life, but now—now I realize what a fool I was," he continued, the frown deepening across his face. "All anyone will ever see is the _W_ on my wrist…I saw it at the Ministry. As I entered a lift, I saw the fear, the horror, that one of them would have to stand next to me," he finished, his face contorting as if the words tasted bitterly in his mouth.

"Let me see your wrist," she said softly, reaching for both of his hands.

"So you could feel pity for me? No," he replied, quickly retracting his hands.

"Come on, let me see it," she demanded, holding out her hand.

"No, Althea, I won't show you—"

"Don't be a child!" she said, reaching for his hands.

Remus pulled away. "Don't—"

Althea sighed.

"It's not important—"

"Not important? You're just being stupid now," she said shortly and grabbed his wrist, hoping it was the wrist with the mark.

She could feel Remus's wrist tense in her hand and she knew she had the correct wrist. Carefully, she slid her fingers underneath his frayed cuff and uncovered his wrist. Althea, heavily biting her bottom lip, refused to show him her repulsion as she looked at the red, raised _W_ burnt into his pale skin.

"Nothing more than a monster," he muttered with disgust, grabbing Althea's hand and releasing it from his wrist. Remus roughly stood and refused to face her. "I should leave. I was wrong in coming here," he said, shoving his hands in his robe pockets.

"No," she replied as she stood. "Please don't leave," she pleaded quietly, holding onto his sleeve. "I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. Please stay."

"Althea, I—"

"Don't argue," she interrupted, grasping his sleeve tighter.

"Althea, don't tell me what I can and cannot do!" he snapped, pulling his arm away from her.

Althea took in a sharp intake of breath at Remus's outburst. Why would he push her away from him? _I can't help him_, she thought as her arms went limp at her sides, _but I can't let him leave_. She had to think of something to keep him there. He was angry and drunk, and Althea knew that one could do terrible things when angry and drunk.

"Wait!" she called out, her voice shaking. She cleared her throat before asking, "How was Borneo?"

Remus stopped and refused to turn around. "Hot, now goodbye," he answered shortly and continued toward the door.

Althea frowned. He usually loved to talk of his travels, tediously so. Her imagination envisioned Remus on a similar destructive path, and the young man touted by the Registry as a fully integrated werewolf would discover himself in Azkaban. She had to think of something else to keep him there. Althea looked up at the carved designs in the ceiling.

Althea took a deep breath and released it as she spoke, "Remus, I'm lonely."

His hand, reaching for the doorknob, stopped. "I think we all are. Now goodbye."

"No, _I'm lonely_."

"I'm sure you could find someone else to take care of that," he remarked, turning the doorknob. "Never seemed to have a problem before."

"I want you."

Remus rested his forehead against the door. "Althea, don't—"

"I regret not following you to Brazil," she interrupted, walking toward him. "Things," she continued and found her voice suddenly shaky, "could've been very different."

Remus, still facing the door, nodded.

"You were my one, true friend, and I…" she paused and breathed to collect herself, "I didn't listen to what was said about you or how I should feel about you. I never have. You're not a monster, you're a man—"

Remus let go of the doorknob and turned to face her. A bitter smile played across his lips. "I'm not." He turned for the door. "I won't keep you any longer. Goodbye, Althea."

"Don't reach for that doorknob," she demanded, pointing her index finger at his arm.

"You can't keep me here," he laughed, running his fingers through his slightly unkempt hair.

Althea frowned. "Yes I can," she replied, taking out her wand. She cast a charm to lock the door, and as Remus took out his wand to unlock the door, she uttered, "_Expelliarmus_."

His wand flew from his hand into hers, and she quickly stuffed both wands into her robe pocket.

"Now you will listen to what I have to say," she continued as Remus frowned. "You are a man. It's one night a month, Remus, just one night," she explained, taking hold of his hand. "Think of all the other nights you're like this," she said as she led him over to her bed.

Remus sighed with frustration as he sat next to Althea on her bed. "Althea, I've lived with this since I was a small boy. I reckon I know more—"

"Dumbledore could have given up on you, but he didn't. He knew you weren't some animal or monster—bloody hell, he made you a prefect," she interrupted, not taking her eyes off him. "He asked you to join the Order…and don't forget your first job after the war—"

"That's Dumbledore…he's unconventional," he replied, folding his hands in his lap.

Althea leaned closer to him as Remus, frowning, continued to look at his hands in his lap. "What about your friends who knew before you even told them? They accepted you and became Animagi so the transformations wouldn't be as difficult."

"Obviously you forgot that Sirius used me to play a prank on Snape…almost got us all expelled."

"I could never forget that," she replied quietly and bit her lip. "Did you forget about Iphigenia?" she asked, sliding closer to him. "She _loved_ you."

Remus's expression turned grim. "She wouldn't be dead if I wasn't a werewolf."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

Althea sighed with frustration. "I knew and I dated you," she reminded, kicking her heel against the lush carpet.

Remus shook his head. "You don't count, though."

Althea's heel slammed against the carpet. "I don't count? Why would you say such a thing?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Your father…he wrote a book."

Althea's eyes widened. "So? You think I dated you out of some obligation to him?" she asked heatedly, standing. "Out of pity for you?"

"Possibly," he muttered.

"Possibly?" she repeated with astonishment.

She tightly closed her eyes to prevent her crying. She opened to her eyes to see Remus with his head bent, sitting motionless on her bed.

"Here, take your wand back and go," she said, thrusting his wand at him, and then unlocked the door. She turned away from him and folded her arms.

She heard the _creak_ of her mattress as Remus stood. "Althea," he murmured, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Althea quickly turned around and pushed his arms away from her. "No, get away from me, _werewolf_! Is that what you want me to say? Is that what you expect?"

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean—I'm not myself—damn it!"

Althea lowered her head—refusing to look at him. "I dated you because I fancied you…I lost my virginity to you," she said, staring at the floor between them. "Just because you regret it, doesn't mean that I do."

She looked into Remus's eyes. He inhaled a sharp breath.

"Obviously it doesn't mean the same to you."

Remus took her hands in his. "No, Althea, our time together means everything to me," he insisted and kissed her folded fingers. "I had never kissed a girl before you—don't laugh," he said, lifting her chin with his hand.

"Sorry," she whispered, sniffing back tears.

Remus cupped his hand to the side of her face. "You made me feel like a normal teenage boy, almost allowing me to forget what I was," he said, staring into her eyes. "Thank you."

Althea held her breath as Remus's head jerked forward slightly, but he retracted it and frowned.

"Come on, let's sit down," he said, taking her hand and leading her toward her bed. "I have something to tell you."

Smoothing out her robes, Althea gazed at the very pale, very pensive Remus. "What do you have to tell me?" she asked, gently pressing his hand.

"I want to tell you how it all happened," he said, looking into her eyes. "How I became what I am."

"Oh," she murmured and furrowed her eyebrows somewhat.

Hadn't Remus told her? He must have told her at one point in their friendship. However, upon further thinking, she realized Remus had never told her about how he came to be a werewolf. It was something she always knew that had happened, but never asked. Would he have told her if she had asked? _Probably not_, she thought, attempting to look thoughtful.

Remus took a deep breath and shifted his gaze from her eyes. "I was eight when it happened," he began, rubbing the tops of her hands with his thumbs. "My parents had bought me a telescope for my birthday, and I'd spend almost every night looking at the stars. Of course, there were certain nights I couldn't go outside, so I'd have to look at the full moon from my bedroom window…. I had read about a meteor shower and I was very excited to see it with my new telescope; however, my father had forbidden me from setting up my telescope outside. He said that I could wait one night, and that there would be another meteor shower the next month…" he continued and paused—his expression dark and solemn. "I didn't listen…. I snuck outside with my telescope, and all was fine until…until I heard the awful growling…. I panicked and started to run, but Greyback—"

"Greyback?" Althea repeated quietly.

Remus nodded slowly. "I didn't know until the Order," he said, his hands still, "my father thought it best—"

Althea felt her heart sink—the werewolf that reveled in his lycanthropy and sought to convert the world. The werewolf that took particular interest in converting children. Would it have mattered if it were a werewolf like Remus? Althea fought to keep the horror in her belly concealed.

"He caught me. I screamed for help as he started to drag me away. I thought I was dead…."

Althea stopped listening to Remus's story about the werewolf bent on revenge against Remus's father and closed her eyes. The memory of the wizard brought to St. Mungo's, after a werewolf attack, flashed across her eyelids. She remembered helping the Healer on the ward with restraints as the wizard thrashed about his bed. She remembered the fear and terror in his eyes, and the screaming as his body started to contort into its wolfish shape. After the first transformation, too horrific for the wizard to bear, he hung himself after leaving St. Mungo's. Althea could never imagine how an eight-year-old boy could have survived such an awful transformation.

"I wasn't taken to St. Mungo's. My father couldn't stomach the shame, I think…the transformations were awful until—"

"Until Hogwarts," she interrupted, returning to the conversation.

"Yes," he replied, nodding his head.

"How are your transformations now?" she asked and gently bit her bottom lip.

"Awful," he replied, making a face. "I'm alone now when I make them."

Althea caught her breath from the surge of excitement. For the first time in months, she felt true joy she would transform with Remus. However, she was a raven and not a large dog, but it was better than transforming alone. He could not refuse; her presence would help ease his transformation. It would still be awful, but she would be there to help him. Her mind rapidly sorted out the plan—she could travel with him, help him in his research, and eventually they might—Althea felt the apples of her cheeks pink.

"You don't have to be," she began, her excitement apparent her voice. "Take me with you."

Remus blinked. "What?"

Althea smiled. "Take me with you, to Borneo," she answered eagerly, squeezing his hand. "I want to come with you. I could stay with you when you transform and then look after you. I know how you can't cook, but I can," she explained rapidly, shaking and dizzy from excitement. "I could help you in your research…please."

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "Althea…" he began quietly and licked his lips—his demeanor hesitant. "I—I can't take you with me."

"Why not?"

"Just know that more than anything I want to take you with me, but I can't. I just can't."

"Then why don't you?" she pressed and lowered her head. She cursed herself as she felt the tears collect in the corners of her eyes.

"I wish I could," he replied, lifting her chin with his fingertips. "But I can't…I'm sorry."

Althea removed Remus's hand from her face. "I know what it is. You get so close and then you have to push everyone away."

Remus frowned. "Althea—that's not true—I—"

"Yes, it is. You did it when we were fifteen. You did it after Iphigenia died. You did it after James and Lily died—you left the entire hemisphere then—and you're doing it now," she said, not removing her gaze from his saddened eyes. "Stop running away from those that love you."

Remus sighed as he brought his hand back to her cheek. "I'm not running away from you, Althea," he said solemnly, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "I swear I'm not."

It had been years since any man had touched her with such tenderness.

"I want to be with you," he said earnestly. "Yes, yes I do."

Althea raised her trembling fingers to Remus's face.

Remus rested his forehead against hers. "I should never have left all those years ago. I should have stayed with you, married you, and helped you raise your daughter."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I thought it was _me_," he began, taking his hand from her face. "I thought that I was being repaid for any happiness I ever felt by being a part of something. I mean, who ever heard of a happy and accepted werewolf?" he continued and shook his head. "I didn't want anything to happen to you, so all those years ago I did run away, but you did, too. We all did."

"Then don't run away now."

"There's a reason I can't be with you," he said, taking her hands in his. "When the Ministry passed the law to mark all werewolves, it also passed another law…I'm unable to…to…."

Althea raised her head. "To marry," she finished.

Remus nodded.

"But, I don't want to marry you—"

"It doesn't matter to the Ministry. It denied a case while I was there waiting—one that would be similar to ours."

"Forget the Ministry."

"Althea?"

"No, forget them, forget the Ministry. You deserve every right to be happy and to lead a happy life," she said and gently squeezed his hands. "We could blackmail them—there's so much corruption. I hear about it all the time here."

Remus smiled at Althea. "It's a sweet gesture, but—"

"But what?" she interrupted. Her plan would work.

"Althea, it doesn't matter what you or I want," he said, refusing to look at her. "I've had to live with this for a good part of my life. It is something you have to get used to…don't waste your life on a werewolf."

"But you're not—"

"_I am_, Althea," he replied gravely, "_I am a werewolf_."

"But you're also a man, Remus, and I wouldn't waste my life…" she replied and paused.

Suddenly she frowned at the thought that maybe _Remus did not want her_. It was possible—look at what she had become. Who would want her as a friend or a companion? It would be justified that he did not want her anymore in his life—that he did not want her to spend transformations with him, or to travel through Borneo with him.

"Maybe you don't want me," she said quietly.

"No, that's not true, Althea."

"Then what is it?" she replied, but Remus did not answer. "Why couldn't I see it before?" she asked herself and laughed quietly. "You'd waste yourself on me."

Remus rested his hands against her shoulders. "You are not a waste," he replied, looking into her eyes. "If the Ministry discovers that you are even living with me, as a friend, I'll be sent to Azkaban."

"Oh, come on," she sighed quietly.

"It's the truth…. There was legislation to prevent werewolves from leaving the country, but that failed. I'm sure that will succeed one day as well," he explained, stroking a stray strand of hair out of her face. "No one wants to fight for the werewolf anymore. They're so afraid of what happened during Voldemort happening again…. I wasn't the only child bitten—I just survived."

"Then it would make sense to give you rights instead of taking them away."

Remus smiled weakly. "It would, but the Ministry sees taking my liberties away as ensuring the safety of the Wizarding community."

"They're not addressing the problems that caused the revolt in the first place—they're so bloody stupid."

Remus sighed and reclined on her bed. "They're afraid," he said, staring at her ceiling. "Fear can make people believe anything, forget everything, and allow anything to be passed."

"You're the least frightening person I know."

Remus covered his mouth as he yawned. _His transformation was two days ago, he must still be very tired_, she thought as she watched Remus absentmindedly scratch the side of his face.

"You didn't think so when I chased you through the forest," he replied, resting his hands behind his head.

"No, I was very frightened, but I was more frightened for you," she said, crawling closer to him on the bed.

"How so?"

"If you would have bit me, or worse, you'd never forgive yourself," she explained, playing with sleeve of her robes. "Always that chance, isn't there? We could never get too comfortable."

"True," he murmured, closing his eyes and then opening them very wide.

Althea knew he was fighting off sleep. "Would you like to sleep?"

"Oh, no, no," he replied, waving his hand lazily in the air. "I do get a bit drowsy when I have a glass or two of wine."

"Remus, you drank half a bottle."

"I suppose I did," he agreed and smiled to himself.

Althea reclined beside him, and hesitated a moment before she asked, "Anyway, what were you thinking when you chased me? Were you thinking at all?"

Remus nodded. "I wanted to devour you…to tear you apart," he replied, turning onto his side. "Believe me, I would have if you hadn't transformed."

"I don't doubt that," she replied with mild repulsion. The thought of Remus snacking on her bones caused her to shiver. "Where do you transform now?"

Remus covered his mouth as he yawned. "I have a shed," he replied and yawned again. "I magically lock myself in the shed until sunrise…. It's reinforced," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Sometimes, I'm so tired…I sleep there…."

Althea yawned as well. "I suppose I am that boring for you to fall asleep," she whispered, and smiled as she looked at Remus sleeping soundly next to her.

Carefully, she rolled off her bed, took the spare blanket from her chaise longue, and placed it over him. _He's had an awful day_, she thought, slipping back into bed. _I'll let him stay here as long as he needs to stay_. Althea quietly turned onto her side and observed Remus as he slept. Sleeping on his side, his hands were propped underneath his head, with his right leg extended—almost dangling—off the bed. Stifling her laughter as she watched his mouth twitch, her mind drifted to the conversation about his first transformation.

He was eight-years-old when he received his bite. Althea could not imagine and did not want to imagine the stress and fear he, as a young boy, must have felt with every transformation. How could a parent or anyone explain to an eight-year-old what would happen to him? The average age of a werewolf bite was thirty-six. Moreover, the quality of life for the average werewolf was so poor that most did not live for another five years. The average age of death for a werewolf was forty. Remus lived outside of the statistics, and Althea knew he would never become one—his survival instincts were too strong. It could have come from his natural demeanor or it could have come from being bitten so young—Althea did not know. However, she did know that where Remus excelled, she failed. He had gone through the same trials—the same events as she had—with an enormous burden, and remained the same calm, strong person she had always known. She, on the other hand, had become a loathsome, pathetic excuse for a human being.

Althea craned her neck forward and kissed his cool forehead. "You're not a waste, Remus," she whispered. "I don't deserve you."

* * *

It was midnight when Althea returned to the celebration. She entered the conservatory and caught Allegra's eye. The large emerald upon Allegra's finger sparkled as she beckoned Althea to sit with her. She smiled and patted Althea's hand once Althea was seated. The composer, Louis Chevalier, was seated at the piano, his fingers played upon the keys at a feverish pace. _We could travel_, she thought, _spend no more than a month or two at one hotel or villa…we could see a surgeon, I'm sure the brand could be removed by such methods_. Allegra let out a gasp at a particularly difficult part of the piece.

Althea leaned toward Allegra, "You knew it was him."

Allegra nodded. "He told you?"

Althea's lips curved into a smile. "I was fifteen."

"Fifteen," she murmured and lifted the ornately painted fan to cover her lips. "He would hide underneath that piano, and once, he stayed underneath there with his picture book for an entire performance," she said, her smile sad. "He was five."

As Chevalier continued to play, Althea imagined the five-year-old Remus stubbornly reclining upon his stomach with his picture book before him. With the tiny crease between his eyebrows the little Remus resisted every attempt to remove him from his spot. She smiled at the thought that despite all efforts to extract him, it was decided to carry on the performance with him there. Remus Lupin had defined his life by the night Fenrir Greyback bit him. How different would his life have been if never bitten? What would he have sought for himself? _I've been given every opportunity_, she thought, and out of her periphery, she thought she recognized Jack casually leaning against the white pillar. He had not seemed to notice her. _And, I've made a mess of things_.


	56. London, November 1984

**London, November 1984**

"You're leaving me?" Allegra repeated, resting her hands on her hips.

"Yeah," Althea grunted happily, lifting a suitcase under her arm, "going to Borneo."

Althea was determined to accompany Remus on his return journey to Borneo. He had given her the room number to his accommodations at The Leaky Cauldron, and she would arrive—her suitcases packed—ready to start their journey. Althea lifted the other rather heavy and cumbersome suitcase off the floor. _There's no way I could let him return to Borneo alone. As if the Ministry would care what we do on the other side of the world in a bloody jungle... He'll see it my way eventually and might thank me one day for joining him_.

Allegra smiled at Althea's enthusiasm. "Borneo?" she laughed and shook her head. "No, I wasn't made for the jungle," she sighed, and looked up at Althea and raised an eyebrow. "What brought about this? Very sudden."

"I thought I needed a change of country," she explained and her suitcase slipped from underneath her arm. She went to catch her suitcase, but the other suitcase slipped as well. "Maybe I shouldn't take so many things, right?"

"Maybe you shouldn't leave the country for a man," Allegra remarked, helping Althea with her fallen suitcases.

"Thank you," she murmured—feeling her face flush—taking hold of the handle. "What makes you think I'm leaving for a man?"

"Why else?" she asked, folding her arms. "Women tend to do stupid things for a man—like they're bloody worth it," she added, frowning. "That Jack—I don't like him—"

"How do you know about Jack?" she asked defensively, her arms aching from the weight of her suitcases.

"He wouldn't stop pestering the house-elves about you," she answered and chewed her bottom lip. "The worst sort…I don't trust him. Move on—"

"Well, I won't see him again—"

Allegra grabbed Althea's arm. "Promise me, you won't."

Althea nodded. "I'm leaving for Borneo to assist my friend with his research."

"Remus?"

Althea was silent.

"Why didn't you say so?" she said, gently stroking Althea's arm. "He needs you. You're good for him."

Althea took a step backward through the doorway.

"I wish you wouldn't go, though," she replied from the other side of the doorway. "Who will I find to replace you?"

"Right," she grunted, shifting her suitcase underneath her other arm to wave. "Bye, then."

Althea took the suitcase back into her other hand, its heaviness jarring her shoulder. _She understands_, she thought as she smiled and winked at the waving Allegra. _I wouldn't waste my life traveling to Borneo with Remus; I'd waste it by staying here…why did I make these so heavy_, she thought as she readjusted her suitcases. Granted, she could charm them lighter, but then Muggles would suspect, as she would carry her large suitcases with ease through the busy Muggle street. _No, it's better if I struggle on, she_ thought as her eyes glimpsed the sign of The Leaky Cauldron.

The atmosphere of The Leaky Cauldron was loud and busy with breakfast; the patrons had not noticed Althea's entrance as the majority sat at tables reading the _Daily Prophet_ while they drank their morning coffees. Dropping her suitcases to the floor, she took out her wand and charmed them lighter—her body thanking her as she picked up the lighter suitcases. Careful not injure anyone with her large and awkward suitcases, she walked through the filled tables and chairs and up the staircase to the accommodations. _Right, it was twelve, wasn't it_, she thought as she passed the first set of doors. _Here we are…number twelve…won't he be surprised_! Althea dropped her suitcases to the ground and smoothed her new robes. She tossed her raven hair from her shoulders. _You'll see it good for you_, she thought and pressed her lips covered with smooth lip gloss together. _A fresh start for both of us_.

She knocked upon the door, and waited to hear his footsteps as his feet shuffled along the floor to open the door. However, no footsteps came. _He must be sleeping_, she thought and she knocked louder.

"Remus? Remus, it's Althea," she said as she continued to knock. "Remus?"

Sighing from disappointment, Althea frowned as she studied the door. _He's probably in Diagon Alley, then_, she thought, as she rested her hand on the doorknob and noticed that the doorknob turned. _Funny that_.

Althea opened the door. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. "What—damn it!" she said and hit her fist against the doorframe—the side of her hand stinging from the impact.

As she rubbed her sore hand, Althea's eyes looked about the empty room—no papers scattered the floor, no opened suitcase atop the chair in the corner, and no unmade bed. The bed appeared to have not been slept in and atop the pillow was a letter. Althea walked forward and read that the letter, in Remus's writing, was addressed to her. Unfolding the parchment, her fingers tightly clutched the coarse paper as she began to read:

_Althea, _

_I thought you would come here, but as you can see, I am gone. I am very sorry, but I had a change of plans. As you are reading this, I am on my way to Germany. It seems the German Ministry was interested in my proposal on Erkling control, and it has offered me a position to continue my research on Erklings. Thankfully, I had no trouble changing my destination itinerary at the Registry. I was needed straight away and I couldn't afford any delay—_

"Is that what I am?" she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "A bloody delay?"

_I will send you a letter once I arrive in Baden-Baden and settle into my new home. _

_I apologize for the abruptness, but my excitement and the knowledge I will be late must keep this letter short. I am so sorry I could not see you before I left. I'll start preparing for your visit at Christmas. I would very much enjoy a visit with you then._

_All my love,_

_R_

"All my love, Remus," she muttered, throwing herself back onto the mattress. "Oh, this is brilliant, _brilliant_!" she remarked and roughly rubbed her forehead. "Stop making bloody excuses, Remus!"

_What am I supposed to do now_, she thought, staring at the letter in her right hand. Althea felt embarrassed and angry, and she was not sure if she was angrier with Remus or herself. _I can't go back to the Salisbury now_, she thought, crumpling the letter in her hand.

"Never a goodbye," she murmured and threw the balled up letter across the room.

Her eyes stung from the mascara that had seeped into her eyes, and Althea wiped them with the heel of her hands. She coughed as mucus drained into the back of her throat. What made her think that Remus would want her to travel with him? She was a burden and would be a constant reminder of the past. Who would want to relive the past? No, he needed to move on and she…she needed to move on as well. Just as Allegra had instructed.

Althea sat up and took her wand from her robe pocket. "_Incendio_," she muttered as she pointed her wand at her suitcases.

* * *

The stale, musty air wafted into her nostrils as Althea looked around the unkempt cottage. Thick cobwebs covered the furniture, and Althea looked down at her shoes—covered with dust—as her feet created plumes of dust with each step she took. Refusing to touch the nursery doorknob with her hands, she pointed her wand toward the door—the door almost blasting off its hinges. _What am I even doing here_, she thought as she entered the nursery.

"I suppose I'm here to say goodbye," she muttered to herself and walked toward the empty cot.

The cot was also covered in a layer of dust; a spider had constructed a web in the far right corner—its meals still wrapped in the intricate web. Her eyes wandered toward the netting at the head of the cot. The netting once tied back with large pink satin ribbons was now limp and moth-eaten—the large pink satin bows undone and the ends of the ribbon frayed. _You'd be three now_, she thought as she wiped the dust from her hands. _I wonder if you still use your cot…. No, you would have a bed now. You would have had a bed here, too—a marvelous one_, she thought, and mournfully sighed as she as she looked up on the faded mural. _I'd paint your walls for you again—any scene you would want…this time your daddy would ask for permission to charm them_.

"Of course, it wouldn't matter to him," she muttered bitterly, her hand tightening around her wand. "He'd do it anyway."

Althea wiped her eyes as she watched a rabbit hop across the faded green grass.

"My paint fades, but your charms stay," she continued, narrowing her eyes at the mural. "I hated that you charmed the mural. I hated that you didn't ask me—you never asked me about anything! This cot! Those toys! You never asked me once! Why did you have to charm it?" she shouted and growled, stomping her foot against the floor—a plume of dust rising from underneath her feet, causing her to choke. "Why couldn't you let me have this? Why do you have to take everything from me?" she shouted and pointed her wand toward the mural. "_Reducto_!" she yelled—the jet of light blasting from the tip of her wand.

The jet of light exploded upon impact with the mural, causing Althea to fly backward into the opposite wall. Her back hit the wall with violent impact—the wall providing little comfort as the charm on that wall protected it from cracking. Catching her breath—her back sore—she looked at the untouched wall before her.

"You can't even let me destroy it," she breathed and groaned as she brought her knees to her chin.

Taking one last hateful look at the charmed mural, Althea stood and limped out of the nursery. Her head bent, she continued out the door and into the garden. At one time, she took great pride in her garden, spending her mornings cultivating flowers, vegetables, and herbs. Now the garden was overgrown with weeds, overrun with gnomes, and the plants she cherished the most were dead. It was five-thirty in the evening, and at seven-thirty, she would meet Jack.

With the arrival of Remus, she had become sidetracked in her work; however, after she had left The Leaky Cauldron, fortune smiled upon Althea for she spotted the handsome Jack looking among the expensive cauldrons in Diagon Alley. After tapping her hair with her wand to change the color back to the garish red, she approached him; and Jack, eager to see Althea, agreed to meet with her that evening in Phaedra's Pub, the private pub of their initial meeting. This time she would not fail. He would be found dead in the gutter, and she would fly to Germany.

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Jack asked eagerly.

Althea examined the bouquet of large orange, red, and yellow tropical flowers Jack had given her. "They're lovely," she replied, smelling them, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied and winked. "There are only two places in the world you can find these flowers—Tahiti and the hothouse at my estate," he explained, stroking her back.

"Really," she breathed, touching one of the delicate petals.

_These are truly gorgeous flowers. Pity I'll have to kill him…damn, he's so handsome, too_, she thought as her fingertip stroked the soft, moist flower petal. Althea took a gulp of air as Jack's breath caressed her neck—her delicate skin tingling to the fluctuations of the hot and cold of his breath. _I can wait another night_, she thought, and shut her eyes—embarrassed at her arousal. _Oh, what am I thinking? A handsome face and a dark past, and my knickers are down about my ankles…. I really need to set my priorities_.

"Mhmm," he murmured, leisurely gliding his hand across her abdomen.

Althea instinctively caught her breath and felt her torso flush with warmth.

"I would love to take you there sometime. Maybe this weekend perhaps?" he whispered, his warm lips gently brushing the nape of her neck.

Althea released her breath in short, shaky pauses. "Perhaps," she smiled and nudged him away with her shoulder, eliciting a frown from Jack. "Not here, right?" she whispered, stroking the side of his face. "I don't like how that wizard there is looking at us."

Jack laughed quietly and took her hand from the side of his face. "Right," he replied and kissed her fingers. "To my flat, then?" he asked and forcefully kissed the back of her hand.

Althea forced a weak smile. "Of course," she replied and Jack smiled. "You know, it's such a beautiful night, let's walk," she added as she stood. "It can't be that far from here."

"No, it's not that far," he replied, offering her his arm. "I wouldn't mind a walk."

Althea took his arm and the two walked into the London night. The chilly November air caused Althea to tighten her cloak about her neck. She lifted her hood to conceal her face, but Jack would remove it to kiss her cheek. He held her close to him, in such an awkward way, which prevented her from reaching her knife. She would have to settle for his flat. The two parted as they ascended the staircase. Althea smiled as Jack walked before her, and she slipped her hand into her robe pocket. She felt the knife handle.

"I thought you were to forget me," he said, tapping his wand against the lock.

Althea's excitement heightened. Her hand tightened around the knife handle as Jack opened the door.

"Sorry about that," she replied, her heart pounding against her chest. "I had business to attend to."

Jack allowed Althea to enter first—her eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness of the hall. The small beam of light from the corridor dissipated as Jack shut the door, and she waited for Jack to light the gas lamps. However, instead of hearing the distinct _click_ of the gas lamps as they were turned on, Althea heard Jack's footsteps stop directly behind her.

"Well," he began, sliding his arms around her back, "you shouldn't work so much."

"I know," she replied, frowning as she felt his arms tighten around her.

Jack, once more, held her in such an awkward position to stab him—she would have to release the knife to face him. If she would stab him from her present position, there was that chance she would not make a clean stab and a struggle would ensue. A struggle was something she did not want—she wanted the kill as clean as possible.

"However, I'll be working less soon—might even quit," she continued, letting go of the knife in her pocket.

"Really?" he murmured, loosening his grip on her so she could turn to face him.

"Yeah," she smiled, and slid her hand up to his shoulder while slipping her other hand back into her pocket.

"Well, I'll mend that," he replied, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Now!" he shouted and pushed Althea backward.

Bewildered, Althea stumbled back and fell to the ground.

"_Incarcerous_!" she heard another voice shout, and shackles magically bound her wrists and ankles.

Suddenly, the gas lamps flickered on and glowed, allowing Althea to see her situation. Jack stood at her feet, his house-elf peaked from behind his legs, and another man—the man from the pub—stood at her side. _I was set up_, she thought, anger surging through her veins.

"NO!" she shouted, pulling at the shackles that bound her wrists. "No! No! No!" she continued to shout as she kicked and struggled with the shackles.

Jack laughed, which caused Althea to stop struggling and glare at him. He leaned himself against the pale green wall and smiled smugly at Althea. Full of rage at her capture, Althea attempted to stand and to lunge forward; however, the shackles prevented her from doing so, and she fell to the ground—the long metal chain that connected the shackles from her ankles to her wrists dug into the side of her knee.

"You're in no position to argue, Miss Derry," he answered, twirling his wand between his fingers.

Althea righted herself and rubbed her sore knee. "Go ahead and get on with it."

Jack stopped twirling his wand between his fingers. "Get on with it?" he laughed and shook his head. "I'm not going to kill you—far from it," he explained, sliding his wand in to his robe pocket. Pushing off from the wall, he walked forward and stopped in front of her. "Believe me, you're worth more alive than dead," he continued, smiling slightly. "I'm handing you over to the Ministry and I'll collect the thousand Galleons."

Althea gasped, her eyes widening. "You're a bounty hunter? But—but your arm!" she said, panicked, pointing with her hands to his arm.

Jack laughed once more as he lifted his robe sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark underneath. He licked his thumb and smiled as he pressed and dragged it across the Dark Mark. Althea gasped as the Dark Mark smeared—it was only ink! How could she have been fooled?

"_You_," she growled slowly, narrowing her eyes at him.

Jack knelt next to her—his grin transformed to a smirk. "Maybe if you used your tongue to lick other places, you could have discovered earlier," he remarked and tugged a red curl. "However, lucky for me, you didn't. Now I get the thousand Galleons."

"So, you were in it for the money, then?" she muttered, frowning as she tugged on the shackles that bound her wrists.

_How could I have been so stupid_, she thought, and kicked her legs out of frustration, as she could not break free. _Why would I think any man's intentions would be truthful against me?_.

Jack laughed, shaking his head. "You were in it to kill me," he replied and leaned forward. In a low voice, he continued, "I have to admit, though, you were the most fun catch. It is a pity I have to turn you over—"

"I'll give you five," she interrupted. "Five thousand Galleons and you let me go and we forget we ever met."

Jack whistled at the amount. "Now where would you get that sort of money?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm good for it," she replied, tugging once more on the shackles. "Undo the spell and I'll get the money."

Jack laughed as he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Why would I trust someone that wanted to kill me?"

"I won't, I promise. You're not a Death Eater—"

"Ah, glad I told you before, then?" he said, taking two cigarettes from the pack. "No, even though your offer _is_ enticing, I'll stick with the Ministry. I know they're good for it," he added and placed a cigarette between Althea's lips.

"Bastard," she muttered between her teeth as Jack lit her cigarette.


	57. London, Ministry of Magic, November 1984

**London, Ministry of Magic, November 1984**

Althea laughed, but quickly yelped as the chains tightened around her. "Do you mind loosening these bloody things?" she asked—her breathing shallower. "It's not like I can _leave_ this fabulous courtroom of yours," she continued, looking around the crowded courtroom.

The large crowd continued to murmur, and Althea turned her head to face them. The crowd was mostly composed spectators and media (Althea stuck out her tongue at the bespectacled woman with the acid-green quill), but a few, in the front rows of the public seating, were family members of those she killed. _At least I was kind enough to leave a family_, she thought as a few wept into their handkerchiefs—others coldly stared at her. _They didn't show those witches and wizards the same courtesy_.

Suddenly, directly to Althea's right side in the public seating, an older witch stood—thrusting her clenched fist toward Althea. "You murdered my son! You murdered my son!" she shouted—her face grotesquely contorting as she attempted to hold back her tears. "Taking your soul isn't good enough!"

Althea sighed and threw her head back. "He killed a wizard, his Muggle wife, and their three children. What sort of threat does a five month old pose?" she remarked and turned her head to the side to observe the witch's reaction.

The older witch covered her mouth and slumped back into her chair.

"Proud your son tortured and murdered pregnant witches?" she asked and the woman wept. Althea smiled with spite. "I thought as much."

From the second row a young witch stood, angrily pointing her finger at Althea. "You horrible bitch!" she yelled as she attempted to jump over the railing. "You murdered my fiancé!"

Althea rolled her eyes at the young witch's outburst. "Your fiancé tortured Muggle schoolchildren," she replied, and laughed as two wizards restrained the woman. "Such the prize!"

"That is enough," Dumbledore intervened and Althea lifted her head. "It would be in your best interest to keep quiet as we announce your fate."

Althea laughed again. "So you could tell me you're sending me to Azkaban for the rest of my life?" she began and shook her head. "Or that I'm having my soul sucked from me? Now that would be a laugh. I bloody do the work for you and you suck out my soul, but you allow Death Eaters to keep their souls and spend their lives in Azkaban," she continued, sitting higher in the chair; however, the chains cut deeper into her chest—her shallow breaths, painful. "Bloody hell! Loosen these damn things!"

An older witch with a hooked nose leaned close to Dumbledore. "If I were her, I wouldn't worry about those chains," she commented in a weak whisper. "I'd worry about keeping my soul."

Althea smirked. "I don't have a soul," she said and the courtroom erupted with a mixture of hissing and weeping.

"Quiet, quiet," Dumbledore warned and the crowd slowly returned to quiet.

The black haired wizard sitting two persons from Dumbledore shook his head. "Get on with it, Dumbledore! This whole trial is a waste," he spoke, folding his arms.

Uproar of applause from the crowd and a few nods from Wizengamot members caused Althea's muscles to tighten. The verdict would be read soon and she would discover her fate. Where did the souls go once Dementors sucked them from the bodies of their victims? Did the souls realize they were no longer in their bodies? Did the soul die and the body remain? _No, no, others have done crimes that are more heinous and their souls remain intact_, she thought, her fingers numb from the restraints. _No, I didn't kill that many people…what, about three? No, four—right, four. Ten years in Azkaban then? Bloody hell, I won't be able to survive ten years—Azkaban will kill me…. No, I want to die on my terms_.

Dumbledore leaned forward as he accepted the roll of parchment. "'Stone walls do not a prison make,' Miss _Derry_," he spoke, staring into her eyes.

Althea shifted uncomfortably as she felt her mind being pried open—the chains of the chair cut into her skin as she shifted. With great effort, she took her gaze from Dumbledore and focused it on her bleeding arms. Dumbledore sighed and sat back, the large wooden chair creaking as he did so.

"No, 'nor iron bars a cage,'" he continued, frowning slightly as he unrolled the parchment. "It is the verdict of this court that you, Kelly Derry, will spend the rest of your natural life in Azkaban Fortress," he read and placed the parchment in front of him.

"_LIFE_?" she shrieked over the cheering of the crowd, and attempted sit forward, but the chains painfully and firmly held her in place. "NO! NO!" she shouted, trembling. "NO!"

"Send her away," the black haired wizard said over the crowd frenzy and Althea's protests.

The chains of the chair loosened and Althea saw the two dementors advance on her—her body becoming cold and heavy as they glided closer. "NO! I'll die before you let me go there!" she shouted, attempting one last chance to get away. "I did the bloody work for you!"

The dementor placed its cold, thin, grey hand on her shoulder, which caused Althea to shudder and to whimper.

* * *

The icy waters lapped against the boat as it sailed toward Azkaban. Althea refused to look up, but huddled in the bottom of the boat, attempting to keep warm. The cold mist of the North Sea seeped through her clothes and into her bones. Unable to see her shoes through the intense fog, Althea closed her eyes and listened to the splashing water and the rattling breath of the two dementors that glided along side the boat. She shivered as sea spray splashed against her face.

The ache in her bones slowly traveled to her stomach; however, she was not ill—it was an ache of grief and of unbearable loneliness. Suddenly, a small child's voice spoke, followed by an older woman's voice, and Althea buried her face against her knees. _Oh God, it's starting_, she thought, rocking back and forth. The voices began to multiply, and soon sad and terrified voices flooded Althea's mind as the boat drifted closer to Azkaban. _Stop_, she thought to herself, tightly closing her eyes. _Stop. Please, stop. STOP_!

_"She'll become cold, wrap—wrap the blanket tighter around her…. You're not doing it properly! Here—here let me do it." _

_"Althea—"_

_"Stop, Remus. Now give me Prudence, Mrs. Parker…please." _

_"Really, she's all bundled and warm." _

_"No, just please. She's not—she's shivering!" _

_"Althea, Prudence is very warm." _

_"Can't you see, Remus? Honestly, she can't even bundle Prudence properly. I can't give my baby to her. Prudence will die of cold." _

_"I think it's best if we go. She's warm—and look—asleep." _

_"No—no, she's not. Let me have her back, please, please."_

_"No, it's best if we go—" _

_"No! You can't take her! I won't let you!"_

_"Althea—"_

_"NO! She's my baby! I can't lose her! Let me go!" _

_"I can't!" _

_"Let me go! I can't lose her! Let me go!" _

_"Althea—"_

_"I HAVE NOTHING!_"

"STOP!" she shouted, pounding her fist against the bottom of the boat.

Suddenly, Althea jolted forward as the boat landed against the shore. She whimpered once more as the dementors grasped her arms and lifted her out of the boat. The fog was not as thick on the island and she raised her head to see the imposing fortress. The fortress was three stories high, and every few large stone bricks a small barred window. Hanging out of those barred windows were hands, hands that had faces looking out at the new arrival, or at the dementors burying a coffin on the shore. _That's my only way out…in a coffin_, she thought as they reached the large bolted iron doors. The iron doors loudly creaked open and inside torches glowed against the damp walls of stone, giving off little light.

"Well, what do we have here," she heard a man say to her left, "a pretty thing…won't last long."

"Help me! You have to get me out of here, please!" another man pleaded. "You, bitch, help me!"

"You put the potato in the shoe. No, no! Potatoes are put in cauldrons! Spiders are put in shoes!"

Althea refused to look at them and followed the dementors as they led her deeper into the prison. The screaming, the wailing, and the mumbling of prisoners was constant and at times deafening as she followed the dementors to her future home. Ten feet before her, the dementors stopped and pointed to her cell. Before she took another step, she heard distinct humming to her right. '_Mull of Kintyre'…why would anyone hum that awful song_, she thought, making a face. _It's only good for torture like that time I—Sirius_!

Althea quickly turned to face Sirius in his cell. He sat on his bed with his knees to his chest, continuing to hum. He was thin and dirty, his matted black hair covered his face. _He is the reason I'm here. He is the reason Lily and James are dead. He is the reason I was tortured. He is the reason I don't have my baby and can't have anymore_, she thought, and with each reason, her anger increased exponentially.

"I HATE YOU!" she shrieked, lunging forward at his cell. "I hate you! I'll kill you myself!" she shouted, pulling at the bars.

Sirius did not look up at her and continued to hum.

"Look at me! Look at me, murderer!" she shouted, thrusting her arms through the bars. "You coward!"

Sirius raised his head.

For a brief moment, Althea caught her breath as she looked into his dimmed grey eyes. _It's me, you bastard, your Althea—the one you tried to kill_, she thought, her hands tightening around the cell bars. _The one you promised you would not let anything horrible happen to…the one who readily believed all your lies. Recognize me—don't you know it's me? Or don't you care_.

Something electric passed through Althea—that ache of enormous loneliness and despair had disappeared and was replaced by absolute hatred for Sirius. She breathed deeply at the exhilarating feeling of hatred. She tightened her hands upon the bars, imagining it was his throat, and it felt orgasmic.

"God, that your cell is next to mine," she moaned and fiercely bit down upon her bottom lip.

Sirius continued to stare at her.

"I'll kill you," she whispered, pressing herself against the bars, "and I'll relish every moment."

"If you don't stop, they'll come after you," he replied and nodded with his head for her to look behind.

How dare he think of talking to her?

Althea did not listen and continued in a low voice, "On my grave, I will kill you. I will take enormous pleasure in slicing open your throat."

Suddenly, Althea felt the icy grip of the dementor and the horrible memories flooded her mind once more. _Leave me alone_, she thought, growing dizzy as she heard her mother scream. _Leave me alone_….

* * *

Althea awoke, shivering on the moldy mattress of her cell, unaware of how much time had passed since she fainted. The despair had once more filled her chest, but she knew how to alleviate it. Sirius. Immediately, the rage consumed her. She told him she would kill him and called him a coward…a coward! If anything Sirius hated more in the world, it was to be called a coward. She had called him a coward, and he did not respond with anger or any other emotion.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed, hitting the palm of her hand against the wall. "How could he be so calm?" Frustrated, she slammed her palm into the wall once more.

"Oi! I'm trying to sleep!" Sirius shouted and Althea's eyes widened with maniacal glee—he shared a wall with her.

"Sleep then!" she shouted back and began to pound her fists against the wall. Her arms tiring, she started to kick the wall with her feet—the noise echoing throughout her cell.

"Would you stop!"

Althea kicked the wall with greater fury. "No!"

Finally, her legs tired and her feet tingling, Althea stopped and covered herself with her blankets. When she was fully rested, she would continue with her assault on the common wall. However, how could anyone rest in Azkaban—especially with a dementor outside the prison cell door? _Would you stop the screaming_, Althea thought, covering her ears with her hands as a woman a couple of cells over continued to scream about her lost puppy. Throwing the musty pillow over her head, Althea attempted to sleep, but as soon as she closed her eyes, horrible thoughts and images filled her mind….

"_This is Herberta Jones—a Muggle—one of the giants had sheared off the side of her face with a fence post. She's very combative…we haven't been able to Obliviate her yet." _

_"Get that stick away from me!" _

_"Don't worry, I'm putting it away—see. Whoa, whoa, I'm here to help you. Now, I want to check how your face is healing…. Just relax a bit, and let me unwrap these dressings…. Good…. Good…. You're doing wonderfully—" _

_"Kill me." _

_"I can't do that…. I can only heal you…. There, last layer of dressings—"_

_"Kill me. I've nothing to live for." _

_"I won't…. Now, it's healing beautifully…. You weren't able to talk four days ago." _

_"I made a living by my face—you freaks took that from me." _

_"You are a model then?"_

_"Yes." _

_"In magazines and such?" _

_"Yes." _

_"Right, well, I know of an excellent Reconstructive Healer at St. Pantaleon's. I'll contact him and he'll come probably tom—" _

_"No need. Just let me die." _

_"Ms. Jones, I can tell you honestly, you're healing faster than expected. Healer Adson will be here tomorrow and you'll—"_

_"How will I know they won't come back?"_

_"The giants? The giants that did this were taken care of by the Ministry. Now, I'm still going to request you receive poppy juice, but I'm also going to request for you a Cheering Charm." _

_"What the bloody hell?" _

_"It'll help in the healing process—both will make you feel better. I'll give you more poppy juice and the Cheering Charm. Then I'll let Florence apply the new dressings and you can rest."_

_"Right." _

_"There you go…. If you need anything let Florence know, right? She'll know how to contact me if you need anything else. I'll be back tomorrow morning, then. Take care…." _

_"Healer Brown, I have her on three drops of poppy juice every three hours for pain—"_

_"Right, good." _

_"I've also requested a major Cheering Charm every four hours."_

_"Oh, I don't think it's necessary." _

_"For her I think so. It'll help with the recovery process. The recent research shows a combination therapy of poppy juice and Cheering Charms increases rate of healing and creates a sense of better well being for the patient, making her outlook at her recovery more positive." _

_"Althea, you have a lot to learn still. We don't order things because it's the latest fashion. She's a Muggle." _

_"It's not the latest fashion. It's used at St. Pantaleon's, St. Foillan's, and Nonnatus. I know she's a Muggle, but it shouldn't change the therapy regiment." _

_"It's not customary."_

_"I don't care if it's not customary, I've ordered it. She has definite anxiety, depression, and thoughts of suicide. It's customary for any of our patients." _

_"Right, have one of the Healers-in-Training do it, Althea." _

_"I will. Good day, Healer Brown…." _

_"What do you mean she's dead? She was healing perfectly." _

_"She killed herself." _

_"What?"_

_"Sometime during the night. They found her this morning." _

_"Wasn't she under observation? She was given a regiment of poppy juice and Cheering Charms! Caretakers are in and out of the rooms constantly!" _

_"Normally they are, but I was off last night and so was the Head Caretaker." _

_"Florence, this doesn't make any sense." _

_"I know, but I do have an idea."_

_"What? Tell me. What is it?" _

_"They took her chart—"_

_"Wait, I need that chart. Where did they take it?" _

_"I'm not sure, but I was able to glimpse it. The Cheering Charm was administered once…when you administered it." _

_"Bloody hell! I don't believe this! They killed her, Florence! They killed my patient! Damn it!" _

_"Is there a problem ladies?" _

_"Yes, Healer Brown. My patient is dead. She did not receive her Cheering Charms as ordered." _

_"Althea, I didn't think it necessary. Risky, you know, she is—well was—a Muggle." _

_"Obviously it was a risk that should have been taken!"_

_"We'll make a note of it for next time." _

_"Likely." _

_"Are you questioning my Healing abilities?" _

_"I'm questioning your Healing abilities when Muggles are involved. So, are you enjoying your new equipment donated by the Black family?" _

_"Oh ho! Isn't that rich, coming from you. Who took you home yesterday? Sirius Black, was it? I think you have a conflict of interest." _

_"A conflict of interest? I don't deny treatment to Muggles._…."

Althea lifted the pillow from her face. How many Muggles died at his hand? How many was she helpless to save? _The St. Mungo's Murderer_, she thought, placing the pillow underneath her head. _What I told Dumbledore, Moody was able to capture him. I would have loved to have witnessed that capture…I wonder where he's located here_….

"Maybe he's dead already," she muttered, rubbing her forehead, but immediately stopped as she felt a large bruise on the right side of her forehead.

_Snap…snap_…

Althea sat up and looked around her cell.

_Snap_…

"What is that?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

_Snap…snap…snap_…

"What—where is that coming from?" she asked, the bed creaking as she stood.

She walked to the other side of the cell and the sounds lessened. _It's coming from his bloody cell_, she thought as she returned to her bed. _What is that bastard doing_?

"He's throwing rocks at the wall," she muttered—her eyes narrowing. "Stop!" she shouted, slamming the palm of her hand against the wall.

_Snap…snap_...

"I said stop!" she shouted, repeatedly slamming her palms against the wall.

"You kept kicking the wall," he replied and threw another rock against the wall. "It's only fair."

Althea stood from her bed in between the bed and wooden chair. "I said stop it!" she shouted, hurling her arms against the wall. As her arms made contact with the wall, a mixture of dull and sharp pains radiated through her forearms and up into her shoulders.

"No."

_Snap…snap_…

He continued to throw rocks against the wall, larger rocks and at a faster pace.

Furious, Althea stomped her foot against the ground. "I hate you!"

"You're not the first!" he shouted back and threw more rocks against the wall.

_Snap…snap…snap…snap_…

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Althea screamed, jumping up and down, slamming her fists into the cool, damp wall. "I hate you!"

"You're mental and stupid," he said loudly and the sound of his voice enraged Althea.

"How—dare—you—speak—to—me—you—you—" she shouted between flailing her arms into the wall.

"I'm a what? What am I?"

"A heartless bastard!" she yelled, panting—her throat aching from her outburst.

_If only this wall would fall, then I'd strangle him_, she thought, resting her head against the cool, damp wall—her arms tingling and stinging. Althea lifted herself from the wall and kicked the chair next to her.

"I thought you'd be more fun, you know," he spoke and Althea heard another large rock hit the wall, "shagging supposed Death Eaters, and all. I thought I was entitled to something—there aren't many young murderesses here."

Althea grabbed the wooden chair she had just kicked. "I wouldn't touch you!" she shouted, throwing her chair against the wall.

The chair splintered in two and Sirius laughed evilly. "That's your only chair. They won't give you another one."

Althea still held part of the splintered chair in her hands. "I'll stab you in the heart with this broken chair leg!" she shouted, her hand tightening on the remaining chair leg.

"I don't have a heart!" he shouted and Althea threw the rest of the chair at the wall. "You confirmed that previously. Anyway, isn't that how they caught you—shagging your bounty hunter?"

"Shut up."

"_Shagging your bounty hunter_?" he repeated. "God, that was a laugh when the Minister let that one slip prior to your arrival—"

"Shut up!"

"_Shagging_," he laughed, "your bounty hunter?"

"Shut up!"

"_Fucking_ your bounty hunter?" he said and sighed deeply. "Who would do something as stupid as that?"

"Shut _UP_!" she shouted, placing her hands over her ears.

"It amazes me how stupid some women can be—"

Rage erupted in Althea as Sirius continued to laugh evilly. _He's talking about me! About how stupid I was to believe him_, she thought, her fists tightening.

Althea took a deep breath and waited a moment, before she remarked, "Like your Althea?"

Sirius went silent and Althea laughed cruelly.

"Yeah, she believed every word you told her, didn't she? _Prophet_ said it was gruesome."

She heard Sirius take in a sharp breath.

"Ministry found her body—found the baby's body, I mean—but never found her body. Bits and pieces…an ear here…a toe there—"

"Bitch!" Sirius growled and Althea thought she heard him sniff.

"What? You wanted her to die—everyone knows that! I bet, before she died, she still thought you loved her and would save her."

"STOP IT!" he shouted and threw something large against the wall as it caused small pebbles to fall from the ceiling.

"Sirius, where are you? Where are you? Sirius, help me! Our baby—please have mercy! _CRUCIO_!" she said and screamed, tears forming in her eyes.

_Make him know what I was feeling…make him suffer as much as me_, she thought, as she heard Sirius growling and throwing things about in his cell.

"STOP IT!"

"Why are you doing this to me? Have mercy! My baby! My baby! _CRUCIO_!"

"STOP!" he sobbed. "Stop, you fucking bitch!"

"They didn't stop!" she shouted as she heard Sirius retch. "Please don't kill me! Sirius—_CRUCIO_!"

"_STOP_!"

Althea was about to shout once more, but another's voice shouted louder than her voice. "No! No! Get away from me!" the man shouted, and the anger Althea had felt was quickly replaced by fear.

"What is going on?" she managed to ask as the cell became increasingly cold.

"Don't think anything," Sirius said hoarsely. "Don't think of anything."

_Why should I believe him_, she thought, but soon felt woozy as the voices returned. Althea groaned and fell to the floor, her face smacking against the stone floor. She lay motionless as the screams of the man grew louder and louder, to almost as if the screams were outside of his body and in her very cell. The man's screams filled her head and she wished she could bring her hands to her ears, but not even a finger could twitch. Instead, she closed her eyes….

_Althea let out a ferocious scream to the point she raised upon her toes. She stopped and laughed. _

_"Now, wasn't that fun?" she said and cocked her head to the side. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?" _

_The gagged woman with matted, sweat-filled hair stared at Althea—her eyes fearful. Althea pointed her wand at the bindings. With a flash, they were tightened and the woman whimpered. Were those tears? The hate was intoxicating. Months she had spent tracking Phaedra Burke, the bitch that tortured her that Halloween night, and now, weak and afraid, the woman sat bound before Althea in condemned factory. Althea stepped closer, her boot splashing in the small puddle of grit and stagnant water. _

_"How'd you do it?" she asked, leaning forward to be eye to eye with Phaedra. "Pregnant women? Not even I would try that," she said and tugged at the gag, "but I reckon you have to develop a taste for that." _

_Phaedra attempted to bite Althea's finger. _

_Althea laughed. "I've had enough," she said and slid the knife along Phaedra's cheek, cutting off the gag. "_Crucio_." _

_The scream Phaedra produced was as delicious as Althea had imagined. Phaedra's head snapped back as she continued to scream, her eyes rolled back into her head. Althea lowered her wand. She wondered how long it would take to drive a person to madness…she very much wanted Phaedra to be sane when she killed her. _

_"You…bitch," Phaedra breathed and fought to lift her head. _

_Althea smiled patronizingly at her. "When did we become friends?" she teased and lifted her wand once more. "I'm a Muckblood, remember? _Crucio_!" _

_Phaedra shuddered and wailed. "Please…" _

_"Look at you beg!" _

_Phaedra swallowed as Althea walked behind her. _

_Althea pulled upon Phaedra's hair, snapping her head back. "You were to kill me! Leave me mutilated for that blood traitor!" _

_Phaedra's eyes widened with recognition. _

_Althea let go of Phaedra's hair and pushed her head forward. "What does the Imperius Curse feel like?" she asked and licked her lips. "Isn't that—isn't that what you told the Ministry? Or was it something else?" she asked, running the blade of the knife along Phaedra's jaw. "I reckon it's not so bad once you get past the taste."_

_Phaedra's head slumped forward. "I was coerced—"_

_"YOU ENJOYED EVERY MOMENT!" Althea roared and slapped Phaedra with all her strength. She grabbed Phaedra's chin. "That night," she whispered, "I vowed to kill you." _

_She felt Phaedra tremble against her hand. _

_She tightened her grip. "I would've chosen Azkaban_…."

When Althea awoke, the screaming and pleading of the fellow prisoner had stopped—her cell had regained some of its meager warmth. Carefully, she lifted herself from the floor and staggered over to her bed, flinging herself upon it. Was one supposed to feel remorse in Azkaban?

"What—what happened?" she asked aloud, resting the side of her face against the pillow.

"They took his soul," Sirius replied, breathing heavily. "If you don't think when they're hungry, they won't come after you."

"Right," she muttered, curling her body into a tight ball. "Why—why help me?"

Sirius sniffed. "Pray that God takes you before the dementors," he added and Althea heard him turn over in his bed. "Goodnight, Derry."

"Why are you still here then?" she asked, shivering.

"I can't die…now, goodnight."

Althea did not respond, but lay in her bed facing the wall that separated them.


	58. Azkaban, November 1985

**Azkaban, November 1985**

"What—what's going on? Where are you taking me! Let me go! Let me go!" Althea screamed as the dementors lifted her from her bed. "Let me go!"

Panicked, Althea struggled against the dementors to loosen their icy grips from her underarms. _Oh God! Where are they taking me? Anywhere but that room, anywhere but that room_, she thought, wiggling and kicking. Three months prior, the dementors forced the prisoners from their cells and led them down an eerie corridor to a large, decaying auditorium. Forced to sit, the prisoners watched as the dementors dragged onto the stage, a frightened, trembling man. Althea could remember his face—the tears flowing through the creases of his aged skin down into his grayed beard—as the dementors stopped him at the center of the stage. Herself shaking, she attempted to close her eyes, but somehow they were forced open and she watched—without blinking—the dementors surrounding him.

"You soulless bastards! Let me go!" she shouted as the dementors floated her toward the cell door.

The dementors tightened their icy grips as they glided her through the opened cell door. _Don't think anything…don't think anything_, she repeated, letting all thoughts drift from her mind. Thoughts made her weak, for the dementors fed on thoughts—all thoughts, not just happy thoughts. The happy thoughts were the first to leave—the easiest for the dementors to feast upon. The dark thoughts remained and were slowly nibbled upon, until no personal thoughts lingered, replaced by the evil, soulless urges of the dementors.

Althea numbly let the dementors guide her out of her cell and into the dark corridor. Another dementor, guarding Sirius's cell, unlatched the lock and opened the door. Immediately, Althea's body went rigid in an attempt to break free from the dementors; however, they tightened their grips as they drifted closer to his cell.

"Why are you taking me here?" she shouted and attempted to kick one of the dementors. "I have my own cell! Let me go!" she continued to protest as she grabbed onto the cell bars to stop the dementors from pushing her into his cell. "LET—ME—GO!" she shouted, attempting to hold onto the bars as the dementors continued to push her forward.

The slimy hand of the dementor touched her hand, which caused Althea to retract her arm in fear and disgust—allowing the dementors to push her into Sirius's cell. Althea flew forward—her arms and legs flailing about her—as she plummeted to the stone floor. With a loud _thud_, she landed against the cold stone floor, skidding slightly—her knees and forearms stinging from the impact. Breathing heavily, Althea attempted to sit up, but stopped as sharp pains radiated from her ribs—causing painful stings with each breath.

"Bitch," Sirius muttered from the darkened corner.

"Don't speak to me!" she blurted angrily as she pushed herself up with her shaky hands.

Sirius threw a pebble that hit Althea in the side of the head. "Oh, I have to hear you and your attempts to torture me," he said, and threw another pebble, which landed and rolled before her. "I don't want you in here—"

"I don't want to be in here with you!" she interrupted and forcefully threw the pebble into the darkness.

"You're pathetic—can't even throw a measly pebble at me," he replied, moving from the shadows. "Some murderess you are."

"I'll show you what sort of murderess I am!" she shouted and grunted as she leapt forward.

Sirius's eyes widened from shock as Althea leapt on top of him, knocking him back onto his mattress.

"I'll show you what sort of murderess!" she growled, tightening her hands around his thin neck.

Sirius opened his mouth and attempted to breath, but Althea increased the pressure on his throat.

"Just die already!"

Sirius's thin hands slid up Althea's arms to her own throat. _No, just die_, she thought as Sirius's hands tightened around her own throat. _You die first. I won't let you win…. Just give me this—give me the satisfaction of killing you_. Sirius lifted his leg and kneed her in the stomach, causing her to lose her grip and fall backward.

"NO!" she shouted as she rolled from the bed onto the floor. "No! No! No!" she repeated, slamming her palm against the stone floor. "You did it to me again…you always do it to me…you can't let me win!" she sobbed, collapsing to the floor.

"You're fucking mental."

"You just can't!"

"Why did they put you in here?" he lamented, falling back onto his bed.

Althea wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly. "Do you think I want to be in here with you?" she remarked, pulling her knees to her chest. "I hate you!"

"Oh, poor ickle Kelly Derry having an ickle tantrum," he replied in a baby voice, turning on his side to face her. "Pout some more, Derry; you're not convincing enough that you're upset."

"Why did I ever love you?" she murmured to herself, deeply frowning.

"Love me? Oh, Derry, there's no love in Azkaban. Even if somehow you've managed it—which is very unlikely—your love is misplaced. I'm incapable of love—as you so like to point out when you're shrieking at me from your cell—and if I were, you can be assured I would _never_ love you," he explained and scratched the side of his chin.

Althea studied Sirius as she rested her chin against her knees. He looked so calm, so bored with her and his surroundings. What would killing him accomplish? Nothing. She would strangle him and as she did so, he would stare at her with that smirk—that overconfident smirk that would judge her and mock her. "Really, Althea, is that the best you can do? Strangle me? You're not even doing it properly. You're useless as a witch, a lover, a mother, and a murderess. Honestly, is this your first kill?" the smirk would say, and as Althea would tighten her grip, his smirk would increase. No, if she wanted him dead, he would have to do it himself. Althea would only enhance his inevitable outcome.

* * *

"What do you want?" Sirius growled.

Althea laughed teasingly as she knelt in front of him. "Nothing, nothing," she said in a singsong voice. "Can't we just have this little chat?"

"No," he said and turned away from her.

Althea crawled behind him. "Don't you want to compare how we did it," she whispered in his ear as she slid her arm around his collarbone. "I preferred this method," she added and slid her other arm around his neck. "It was more intimate, you see…. Oh, you're tensing up just like they did," she finished and gestured slicing open his throat.

Sirius took hold of her arms and threw them off him. "You are sick," he said with disgust.

He stood and walked to the other side of the cell and sat down. Althea followed him and sat in front of him. _This is too easy_, she thought, kneeling in front of him.

"I've been called much worse," she began and paused, frowning with feigned thoughtfulness.

Sirius eyed her with the utmost suspicion.

"Tell me, how did you do it? How did you blow up all those Muggles?" she asked, slowly sliding her hands up his thighs—his muscles tightened underneath her palms.

Sirius shifted, pressing his back against the wall.

"You even killed a few children—not even _I_ would do that," she whispered, leaning within inches of his face.

Sirius took is hand and placed it on her face—forcing her away from him. Althea fell backwards, catching herself with the backs of her arms as they hit the cold, damp stone floor.

"Why didn't they take your soul?" he muttered, frowning.

"Because I don't have one," she replied darkly, sitting up. "It was taken from me a long time ago when Voldemort and his followers took everything away that I loved."

Sirius sneered. "Well, poor you—poor ickle Kelly Derry who lost everyone to Voldemort," he taunted. "You wouldn't be the first."

Althea leaned closer to him again. "No, I wouldn't, wouldn't I," she said, an evil grin forming across her face. "_Harry Potter_."

Her tongue caressed her front top teeth as she noticed Sirius's eyes water.

"What type of person would betray his own _best_ friend? I wonder what he was thinking right before Voldemort killed him…. Do you wonder?" she asked and leaned closer toward him.

Althea glanced from his grim face down to his hands, clenched into tight fists—his knuckles white. Lifting his fists into her lap, with little effort she unclenched them, and slowly slid them up her torso to her neck.

"I know you want to," she whispered as she placed his cold hands around her neck. "It won't take that long to kill me," she continued, staring into his dead eyes, "or aren't you man enough without your wand?"

For a moment, the two stared at one another, Sirius's hands twitching around her neck—tightening and loosening his grip.

"Come on, what are you going to do?" she asked as she lightly traced circles above his knee with the tip of her index finger. "Is strangling me a bit too Muggle?"

"Get away from me," he muttered and pushed her away from him.

Althea landed against the stone floor, laughing hideously. Sirius, ignoring her laughter, stood and walked to the cell bars. He stood with his back to her, his hands grasping the cell bars as he rested his forehead in between two of the iron bars.

Althea pushed herself off the ground and joined Sirius at the cell bars, resting her head against his bony shoulder. "And of course, the _ultimate_ betrayal—handing your pregnant lover over to the Death Eaters," she said, as she slid her arms around his waist.

She felt Sirius's abdomen tense underneath her arms.

_You've forgotten what it was like for me to hold you_, she thought and held him tighter, _or didn't you ever care_.

"Would you like to know how they found her body?" she asked, and paused as Sirius caught his breath. "Wait, they never found her body…blown apart and all that was left was the baby," she continued as she felt his body shake as he cried softly.

_Make him feel it, make him think I'm dead_, she thought as he shook in her arms.

"I wonder what she thought. Oh, I expect she was scared and confused. I suppose she wondered where you were and why you weren't _protecting_ her…you promised her such things, right?" she continued, as Sirius shook violently against her—his sobbing continued, growing louder. "But of course, you always questioned the child's paternity…your lover had a certain _affinity_ for _werewolves_," she finished as she slowly slid her hand below his waist—she felt him tense. "Maybe you should have spent more time at home. Look at how she repaid you—you, out saving the Wizarding world, and she, shagging some werewolf or God knows who, actually. Not surprising you had her killed."

Immediately, Sirius quickly turned to face her, held her by the upper arms, and threw her against the wall. Althea hit the wall with such force that it jolted her forward, causing her to lose her breath. Sirius held her against the wall, and Althea saw unbearable fury emerge across his gaunt face—his face tear-stained, his nose running, and the beautiful eyes that Althea once loved were red and swollen. Althea laughed maniacally.

"Don't you _EVER_ speak of Althea like that!" he growled, holding her face in his thin hand.

Althea tried to move her head, but his grip on her face was too strong.

"SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE!" he shouted, and hurled Althea on the musty mattress.

Althea braced herself as she hit the mattress, and a large plum of dust and mold erupted from the mattress causing her to choke and to cough. Sirius threw himself on top of her and turned her over onto her back. Looking into his eyes full of hate, a frightened Althea believed he would kill her. Sirius raised her arms over her head and held her wrists down. He breathed heavily—his nostrils flared—as he painfully squeezed her wrists, her fingertips numbing.

"IS THIS—IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?" he yelled within inches of her face as she squirmed underneath him. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?" he repeated, shaking her like a rag doll.

"No," she said shakily.

"Right," he replied and let go of her wrists.

He roughly pushed himself from her and sat at the edge of the mattress with his face buried in his hands. Lying for a moment, she observed Sirius as he shook violently and sobbed into his hands. _Does he truly feel remorse for what he did_, she thought, sitting up as he continued to pound the palms of his hands against his eyes. _I think he actually feels sorry—awful even…maybe, maybe he didn't want me to die…. Oh God, he didn't_, she thought and swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. _He must have…. He must have traded my life for theirs_. Against her better judgment, Althea crawled next to Sirius and gently placed her trembling hand on his shoulder.

"Get away from me!" he said between sobs.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and kept her hand on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

Sirius placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it. Searing tears trickled down her face and her mind swam with confusion.

"How touching," Althea heard from the cell across from theirs.

Bellatrix stood with her hands stroking the cell bars, and Althea's grip tightened on Sirius' shoulder. To Althea, Bellatrix's voice was sickeningly sweet, much like the smell of rotting death that she had become accustomed to in Azkaban. Althea stood and walked to the center of the cell.

"Don't pay attention to her," Sirius said with his head still bent. "She's not worth it."

Althea stopped immediately and turned toward Sirius. The sound of Bellatrix's taunts and laughter faded—as did everything in the room. Althea's eyes opened wide as the room began to spin, a great grey sea outstretched around her—and she was alone. The words transported Althea to a time when she had spoken those same words to him—a time when all she had to worry about were exams, boys, and Quidditch. Confused, Althea rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. How had she gotten there? She did not belong there—she belonged at Hogwarts. Hogwarts? She did not belong at Hogwarts. She staggered backward and attempted to collect herself. Suddenly, she saw the faces of those she killed. She felt the warm blood as it dripped on her hands. She opened her eyes and held her hands in front of her, slowly turning them over and examining them. There was no blood. The grey sea transformed into the damp grey cell and Althea remembered her reason for imprisonment. Althea killed Death Eaters. Althea enjoyed killing Death Eaters. Bellatrix's laughter grew louder and louder in Althea's ears.

"You're wrong," Althea said coldly, turning toward the cell door. "She's worth it."

Althea rested her arms on the cell bars as she looked over Bellatrix with a slight disdain—she would not satisfy Bellatrix with a look of total repulsion. Bellatrix had been in Azkaban for three years and the effects of the prison were apparent. Her once luxuriously, long black hair was thinning and her full healthy face was reduced to skin held tightly around a skull. She was a hideous creature—much like the banshees Althea's grandmother had warned her about.

"Oh, the illustrious Kelly Derry favors us with her presence," Bellatrix remarked, curtseying. "Kelly Derry," she sighed teasingly, shaking her head with mock thoughtfulness. "What a terrible thing, getting caught and all. You're not much different then us I'm afraid," she said, a malicious grin encompassing her thin face.

"Yes, it is terrible," she sighed, feigning regret, "but, isn't it terrible that Lucius Malfoy isn't in here with you?"

Bellatrix moved closer to the cell bars, and Althea recognized the hatred seething from her face. _Bloody bitch, it's so easy to get you angry_, she thought, tapping her nails against the iron bars.

Althea sighed and stared directly into Bellatrix's cold, dead eyes.

"Maybe Voldemort enjoyed the _company_ of gentlemen best. Oh, but maybe _you_ fancied him. I'm sorry."

Bellatrix pulled at the bars and the others in the cell screamed with fury. "How dare you!" she roared as she furiously pulled at the bars. "HOW DARE YOU SAY HIS NAME!" she bellowed and it echoed throughout Althea's cell.

Althea threw her head back and laughed mirthlessly. "What—_Voldemort_? If I wanted to be the greatest Dark wizard the world had ever seen I would come up with a better name than _Voldemort_," she said plainly. "Imagine if a Muggle heard it…they'd probably laugh—a good laugh, indeed."

Bellatrix screamed and pulled at the bars. Althea heard bark-like laughter behind her. She turned around to notice Sirius still sat with his hands covering his face, but peeked out of the corner of his hands—he winked. Althea smiled wickedly.

"_Really_, Bellatrix," Althea scoffed and rolled her eyes. "If _I_ was to follow a Dark wizard, it _certainly_ wouldn't be one that could be defeated by someone wearing nappies," she added and folded her arms. "Oh, ickle Harry Potter, time to change your nappies before you defeat the horrible Voldemort," she continued in a baby voice. "Come now, I wonder if he was still nursing, don't you? Harry, I mean, not Voldemort. I think we've established he didn't fancy breasts; otherwise you'd be out there and Malfoy…would be in here."

"I'll kill you!" she shrieked and thrust her hands through the bars.

"With what? A wand?" she asked mockingly. "Come on; take your best shot at me. Your work is _legendary_," she provoked and spread her body across the cell door.

Bellatrix picked up a large stone and threw it at Althea. The stone hit Althea in the abdomen with such force that it caused sharp pains to radiate throughout her body, but she would not give Bellatrix the satisfaction of a flinch. Casually, Althea reached into her boot and pulled out a spoon she had sharpened into a weapon. She held it in her hand for Bellatrix to see.

Bellatrix laughed. "A spoon? Will you gore me to death?" she cackled.

Althea retracted her arm and with great force threw the weapon. It whizzed past a shocked Bellatrix.

"You missed," she said and folded her arms.

"Did I?" Althea asked, with eyebrow raised. She moved her head to look past Bellatrix. "No, I didn't miss," she added.

Bellatrix turned around and screamed as she realized one of the imprisoned Death Eaters had the weapon imbedded in his skull. She ran to the dead Death Eater, pulled out the weapon, and hurled it back at Althea. Althea watched as it clinked against the bars and fell to her side.

"Thanks," Althea said nonchalantly as she picked up the bloodied weapon.

* * *

_"Get her out of here!" Althea's mother shouted at Marie. _

_Marie grabbed the young Althea's arm and pulled the struggling girl away from her mother. _No, I have to stay with Mummy_, she thought, wriggling, kicking, and dropping to the floor in an attempt to break free from Marie. However, Marie's grip was too strong, and in a last effort, Althea dragged her feet behind her, wrestling to break free from Marie's grip on her arm. _

_"Mummy! No! I won't go!" Althea screamed, arching her back, attempting to break from Marie. _

_She bit Marie's hand, and Marie loosened her grip, allowing Althea to break free and run to her mother. Sobbing, she threw her arms around her mother's legs and refused to let go. _I won't let you take me away_, she thought as her mother rested her hand against Althea's head and stroked her hair. Althea was triumphant—her mother would let her stay. _

_"Althea, Sweetheart, let go for a moment," her mother said soothingly. _

_Althea listened to her mother and reluctantly let go of her mother's legs. Her mother knelt beside her, continuing to stroke Althea's hair away from her face, as she solemnly looked upon her daughter. _

_"Althea, you have to go with Marie," her mother said, staring into Althea's eyes. _

_Althea forgot what she was struggling against as she gazed into her mother's olive eyes. _

_"Please, go with her," her mother said softly and kissed Althea on the cheek. _

_"No, Mummy," she said, regaining her resolve. "I don't want to go. I want to stay with you." _

_Her mother frowned. "Sweetheart, I know, but you have to go with Marie…. Everything will be all right," she said and kissed Althea's forehead. "I love you very much." _

_"I love you too," she replied and bit her bottom lip. _

_"Now go," she insisted. _

_Althea quietly nodded and took Marie's hand. _

_"Come Althea! Hurry!" Marie demanded. _

_However, it was too late for Althea and Marie to leave the room. _

_"In here!" Marie commanded, pointing to the cupboard as Althea heard footsteps walking toward the room. _

_Althea looked one last time at her mother and her mother nodded for Althea to follow Marie. Marie quickly shoved Althea inside a cupboard and curled on top of her. _

_"Don't say a word," Marie whispered, covering Althea's mouth. _

_Althea tightly shut her mouth as she heard the muffled sounds of a chair falling and her mother yelling at two men. _Mummy, Mummy needs me_, she thought, attempting to wiggle free from Marie. Marie pressed herself on top of Althea to prevent her from moving and covered Althea's mouth with her other hand as well._

_"Shut your eyes," Marie whispered into Althea's ear. _

_However, Althea refused to shut her eyes, and her eyes widened as a green flash illuminated the cupboard through the cracks at the bottom. _What was that? Is Mummy all right_, she thought—a sob caught in her throat. The room outside the cupboard was silent; the men had left. Althea wiggled her way from underneath Marie and ran out of the cupboard. _

_"No, Althea!" Marie yelled, reaching to grab Althea's legs. _

_Althea leapt in the air to avoid Marie's grasp. "Mummy!" she shouted, running to her mother's body. _

_Breathing heavily, Althea stopped at the side of her mother, who lay sprawled across the floor—her eyes open wide and her mouth open as if she was about to scream. _What is Mummy doing on the floor? Is she sleeping…no, people don't sleep with their eyes open_, she thought, kneeling next to her mother. Althea noticed in her mother's hand some sort of stick. _What would Mummy need with a stick? She uses it for cleaning…what would she need to clean_, she thought, resting her hand on her mother's arm. _

_"Mummy, wake up!" Althea shouted as she shook her mother. "Mummy, wake up!" _

_Marie rested her hand on Althea's shoulder. "Little one, come with me," Marie said, wiping tears from her own eyes with her other hand. _

_"No!" she yelled, knocking Marie's hand from her shoulder. "Mummy!" _

_Althea continued to shake her mother hoping that one good shake would wake her. Her mother was sleeping—sleeping heavily—and if Althea continued to shake her, she would eventually wake. Marie grabbed Althea and held her close to her, keeping Althea's face from her mother. _

_"Let me go," she said as Marie rocked her in her arms. _

_"No," Marie whispered, resting the side of her face atop Althea's head. _

_Althea heard footsteps, which caught her breath. "Oh my God," she heard her father say behind her. _

_Althea pushed herself away from Marie and ran to her father. "Daddy, what's wrong with Mummy? Why won't she wake up?" Althea asked between sobs. _

_Althea's father took her in his arms. He held her close to his chest and rested his head against hers. "Sweetheart, she's not going to wake up," he said shakily and held her tighter, kissing the top of her head. "She's dead…_."

Althea woke up screaming and sat straight up on her mattress. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest as she looked around the darkened cell. Panting, she wiped her sweat-drenched hair out of her face. She brought her knees up to her chest and slowly rocked back and forth. _I hate this place. I hate this place_, she repeated to herself as she shivered from the cooling sweat. _It would be a blessing if I went mad. Unfortunately, I didn't enter here with happy thoughts. I didn't need a dementor to take that from me. I'm going to be as sane as he is_, she thought and looked in the direction of Sirius. Sirius sat with his knees to his chest and stared at her.

"What you remember here," she muttered, staring in front of her. "I've tried to forget my mother's death for years," she added and rested her cheek against her knees. "Amazing how this place forces you not to forget."

Sirius did not respond to her comments; instead, he sat on his mattress and studied her. Suddenly, the shrieking from the next cell began. It always began at the same time every night; however, at what time Althea did not know.

"You didn't sleep did you?" she asked, lifting her head.

Sirius shook his head. "I didn't sleep," he replied and sighed. "How did you—how did you…"

"Kill that Death Eater? It gets a little easier with each one," she began, straightening out her legs. "I just have to remind myself what they've done. The last one—before I was captured—killed a family of five…the mother, the father, and the children. The youngest child was five months old," she explained and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Why didn't you kill Bellatrix?" he asked and sat at the edge of the mattress.

"Oh, eventually it will happen. I just want to torture her first," Althea quipped and attempted run her fingers through her messy, matted hair. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you—not yet at least."

"That's a relief," he mumbled darkly. "I think that's what they wanted anyway—that we'd end up killing each other."

"The Ministry can't have everything now, can they," she replied with feigned regret.

Althea studied Sirius for a moment. _I think I'll try something_, she thought, continuing to stare at Sirius.

"Voldemort," she said and waited for Sirius's reaction.

Sirius did not flinch or wince at the sound of Voldemort's name, nor did he stand and berate her for using his name. Althea remained silent and covered her mouth with her trembling hands as her body began to convulse. She finally knew what Sirius had done. She knew Sirius could not possibly be a follower of Voldemort—he despised him just as much as she did. No, he had done something far worse than be a follower of Voldemort—he had traded Althea's life for the life of their best friends. _They would have killed me anyway…anyone would have known that_, she thought as she looked at Sirius with overwhelming disgust, _it didn't matter you betrayed James…they were already at the cottage. I had gotten away, Sirius, you didn't have to betray them_.

Althea shook her head, tightly closing her eyes, as she realized she had killed her own best friend. _What have I done_, she thought, opening her eyes. She should not have gone back to Sirius—her grandmother had warned her. Her grandmother knew his family and knew what they were capable of, but Althea did not listen. She thought Sirius was different, and went about to prove he was different. She thought he believed in the greater good; however, she was sadly mistaken. _I would have died for her, Sirius, just as you should have done—just as James had done. He did not forsake Lily in the end and hand her to Voldemort to protect himself. No, he stood by her, defending his wife and his son…you cut a bloody deal. In the end, you truly are the family you left—cutting deals to suit you and to save yourself_.

Althea swallowed a breath, as Sirius seemed to wait for her reply. "You didn't flinch," she responded quietly, lowering her hand from her face.

Sirius nodded.

"You—you're—you're not a follower of Voldemort," she said knowingly.

Sirius nodded again.

"And _you're_ a terrible liar," he said and raised an eyebrow, "always have been."

Sirius stood from his mattress, walked over to her mattress, and sat down. Althea moved away from him as he attempted to sit closely next to her.

"What are you getting at?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I think you know," he said and crawled toward her.

Althea—in an attempt to escape—moved back, but—to her chagrin—her back encountered the cold, damp wall. "Get away from me, or I will kill you," she replied nervously and attempted to crawl away.

Sirius casually placed his hands on the wall behind her—flanking the sides of her face. He leaned close to Althea's face and his close proximity caused Althea to turn her face away from his. However, with his right hand, he turned her face back to meet his, and once again rested his hand on the wall.

"Oh, I don't think you'd want to kill _your_ Sirius now, do you?" he whispered and pinched her nose.

Althea took a deep gulp of air as Sirius waited for her response. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, flustered, and attempted to stand from the mattress.

Sirius took her by her arms and returned her to the wall. "_Really_?" he began and Althea endeavored to stand once more. Sirius again grabbed her and placed her against the wall. "I've been watching you since you came, and after our conversations, I'm almost convinced," he whispered, returning his hands to the wall behind her. "You don't fool me—"

Althea shook her head as her breathing became shallower. "Please, I'm not—you've—you've gone mad," she said and ducked underneath his arm to crawl away.

Sirius moved his arm to stop her. He raised his bony fingers to her face, and Althea pressed herself as far as she could into the wall as he caressed her face and neck with his fingertips. As his fingertips glided over her jaw, Althea turned her head—a pathetic protest of his advances.

"I've memorized every millimeter of my Althea's body—every curve and every freckle—"

Althea quickly removed his hands and with great force pushed him away from her. "I'm not Althea."

Sirius frowned. "Of course, you're not, Althea," he replied and caught her before she could stand. "Now, there're two methods of proving I'm right," he continued, leaning close.

Althea wrinkled her nose at the filth and pungent odor of Azkaban.

"The first way, well, we can't do. I don't want Bellatrix watching," he said and shuddered.

Althea swallowed at the smell of stale porridge upon his warm breath.

"The second way is much simpler, but not as fun," he remarked and slowly lifted thick curtain of matted hair off her neck.

Althea gasped and bit her lip as she felt Sirius's lips against her neck. She let out a low giggle, but quickly stopped as a large gust of cold air enveloped the cell. _No, no, it's happening_, she thought, the cold seeping through her skin, her muscles, and into her bones—causing her increasing pain. Althea grabbed the sides of the mattress in an attempt to steady herself as the dizziness crept into her mind. _Stop…stop…go away from me…I promise I won't be happy anymore—I didn't mean to... _

_"Althea, let's go." _

_"No, not yet. Let's stay a bit longer. I hardly ever see Lily anymore." _

_"It's not safe for you—for us to be all together like this anymore." _

_"You're being ridiculous, Sirius. I'm not going to break—I managed it on the motorbike—and who knows, maybe if we are confronted by Death Eaters, this Misfiring Magic would blow them away. I'll just pretend they're a Wizard Wireless and Orpheus is playing." _

_"This isn't a joke. You're a target now." _

_"Not you, too, James." _

_"What? I can't care about your safety? His followers are specifically attacking pregnant witches. The less time you spend in public the better." _

_"I'm not in public. I'm in Godric's Hollow. It's not like I'm in Diagon Alley, parading my bloated abdomen for all to see…. Peter, I'll have another piece of cake, too." _

_"No, she won't have another piece of cake. Don't look at me like that, you've already had three pieces."_

_"What? The baby wants another piece. Peter, I will have that piece, thank you." _

_"No, she won't."_

_"I can't believe you would starve your own daughter and deny her another piece of cake…. Oh, larger, please." _

_"I'm not denying her anything. On the way home, we'll stop at a bakery and I'll buy you a cake."_

_"Oh, doesn't that sound lovely! A large chocolate cake with gobs of frosting and pretty, pink roses! A cake today and a new baby rattle tomorrow, or perhaps a piece of jewelry?" _

_"What are you getting at?" _

_"You leave home for three days, or four, or a week. You write these cryptic messages that let me know you're all right, and when I complain or mention of your absences you buy our baby or me a gift. We don't have enough room for all of the toys and I only have so many ears and fingers." _

_"So? She deserves the best. You deserve the best." _

_"What she deserves is her father."_

_"Althea, _not_ now, right." _

_"Right, we'll forget all about this conversation, and I'll eat my cake with a smile…. Peter, I'll have my piece of cake now, please." _

_"No, forget about that piece of cake…. Come on, Althea we're—"_

_"I want my piece of cake!" _

_"I'll _buy_ you a cake on the way home." _

_"But I want _this_ cake. I want Lily's cake." _

_"Would someone take this damn piece of cake!"_

_"I'll take it." _

_"Thanks."_

_"Lily, but that's my piece of cake." _

_"I'll wrap it for you to take home." _

_"But—but—oh, when did you start to conspire with James and Sirius?" _

_"When my best friend and my goddaughter's safeties are at stake." _

_"Why is everyone treating me like a child? 'No, Althea, you can't have another piece of cake.' 'No, Althea, you can't go to Diagon Alley anymore.' 'No, Althea, you can't work anymore.' Soon you'll tell me I can't leave the cottage…. What? What is that look?" _

_"Althea, we've decided it'll be best if you didn't leave the cottage anymore."_

_"Oh, _you've_ decided. I don't have a bloody say in my life anymore!"_

_"Don't get upset."_

_"Don't get upset? How can I not? What if I told you, you couldn't leave the cottage? You'd laugh in my face!"_

_"Althea, my love, please calm down." _

_"I will not calm down! I come here to have a wonderful time at Harry's first birthday, and I discover this is my last night as a free woman! Don't touch me and stroke my arm!" _

_"My love—"_

_"No, you are rarely home and the only thing I have is traveling. What will I have now that I have to stay home?"_

_"You'll have your gardening, your painting…please, for our daughter." _

_"Oh, how lovely! Gardening and painting! What will happen when it grows cold? Hmm? I'm tired of everyone conspiring against me—making decisions for me." _

_"We're not conspiring against you. We want what is best for you and your daughter." _

_"What is best…I see. I bloody can't make decisions in my life anymore! I'm pregnant, not stupid! You know, if you leave me in the cottage, sometime they will find me. Now, wouldn't that be lovely for you to come home to—me blown up, my insides strewn about the cottage." _

_"Althea—" _

_"It doesn't matter. I'll be a target wherever I go. Why can't anyone see that?" _

_"Mate, come on, let's leave Lily and Althea alone." _

_"Of course, walk out, do what you do best."_

_"Althea—"_

_"No, mate, come on…." _

_"You regret this pregnancy, don't you?" _

_"No, I don't understand what you mean—" _

_"You do. I can feel it." _

_"I'm upset, Lily. I'm a burden to him. I know it. He'd rather fight and spend a night with his friends than come home to me. It's always been that way. Why would I have ever thought it would be different?" _

_"Then you lied when you said this baby was planned." _

_"Oh, no, she was planned, or at least the act was planned. I don't think either of us really knew what pregnancy would mean. He has this way of convincing you—you've noticed it. He's so bloody charismatic. After the battle last January, I was so worried he was one of the members killed—he had gone missing for two days after the battle. He came home so broken, and I would have done anything for him. "_

_"So you did." _

_"So I did. I thought stupidly that it would change things, but it hasn't…. It's so difficult. I know he tries to heal his wounds before he comes home. I can't heal him properly now with the Misfiring Magic. The other night, I noticed a horrible burn mark on his back, but I didn't say anything. I carried on as if I never saw it. I don't want to think about him not coming home." _

_"Do you think you made a mistake?" _

_"No, no, she's been the only constant company I've had. I know I can't keep him from fighting. There are things more important than our baby and myself, but I had him promise. I had him promise he would spend more time at home. He's failed miserably. I don't want it to end up like—" _

_"James and me." _

_"I didn't mean it like that." _

_"No, it's all right. James is hardly home anymore as well…. Sometimes I feel as though I'm raising Harry by myself." _

_"But James does come home. Damn it, Lily, this is very unfair—keeping us apart like this. You need me and I need you. All we'll have now are letters, and those might get intercepted."_

_"I agree, but we must do all that we can to protect our children…. I would do anything for Harry…._"

Althea gasped as she opened her eyes. She pulled the threadbare blanket Sirius had placed over her tighter around her chin.

"What—what happened?" she whispered, shivering.

With his long, bony fingers, Sirius gently caressed her cheek—his expression transforming from despair to dark. "You didn't die," he growled, sliding his other hand around her neck. "You were supposed to die."

Althea attempted to sit up and struggled underneath him as he squeezed her throat. Her vision blurring, she saw the shadow of Bellatrix standing at the bars of her own cell—taunting Althea and encouraging Sirius.

"Sometimes, Bella," Sirius began as Althea slapped him across the face in a last attempt to save her life, "you have to kill them yourself…."

* * *

After a large yawn, Althea sat up, rubbed her eyes, and sleepily looked around her cell. It was cold, dirty, damp, and inhumane. Over her shoulder, she heard the trickle of rainwater as it cascaded down the wall to pool in the corner of her cell. She was alone, as she was every morning or afternoon when she awoke. She never knew what time it was—the sky never seemed to clear over Azkaban. The sky was always grey or black—and on lucky days, they were both. Althea sat up and attempted to run her fingers through her matted hair. _That dream of sharing a cell with Sirius is becoming more elaborate_, she thought as she tugged her fingers through her matted hair. _More dementors this time and Bellatrix making an appearance…ugh, I never want to see her face. Keep her in the depths of this hell where she belongs—the harpy_.

"I'm so bloody glad I don't have to hear her shrieking," she murmured and shivered as a dementor glided past her cell door. "Ugh, would you stop crying about your lost puppy!" she groaned, throwing herself back onto the bed. "Your puppy left you because he hated you."

"Althea…."

Althea's mind shifted from the woman crying about her lost puppy to Sirius. _He's dreaming and talking in his sleep again_, she thought a maniacal grin spreading across her face. Sirius's mutterings had increased in frequency, and provided Althea with more questions than answers. He often whispered of James, and Althea discovered herself weeping along side him as he dreamt of James and Lily's corpses. He murmured of his brother, of his mother (which Althea found his pleading for her to love him amusing), his father, and of the Lestranges' gentle persuasion for him join Voldemort. Now, he dreamt of her and the muscles tightened in her belly. What would he offer today?

"Althea…Althea…."

Althea rested her cheek against the cell wall to listen. "You know, I thought this would bore me after awhile, but it hasn't."

"Althea…Althea…I'm so sorry…. I—I never meant to hurt you…. Please, you have to forgive me…."

"Oh, _forgive_ you. Is that what I have to do?" she muttered, tightly clutching her blanket.

"You weren't supposed to die…."

"Really? What was I _supposed_ to do?"

"I'm so sorry…I'm so—" Sirius said, but stopped as she heard him shift on his bed—he must have awakened.

"Now it's my turn," she whispered as she heard Sirius sniff. "Sirius…Sirius…."

"Al—Althea? Oh, God! This place!"

"Sirius…Sirius, why did you do this to me?"

"Oh God, Althea, I'm so sorry…so sorry," Sirius lamented, weeping softly.

"Sirius…Sirius, how could you hurt me?"

Sirius coughed and replied, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. You have to understand…. This place, oh God, this place! Why must you let me live this?"

"What is there to understand? You killed me. You betrayed me…I loved you, why? Why, Sirius?" she taunted and heard Sirius slam against the wall. She cackled.

"Stop! Stop! Please, please stop!" he shouted breathlessly as Althea continued to taunt him with her laughter. "DERRY!" he roared and threw something very heavy against the wall—causing dust and debris to fall from the ceiling.

"What, Black? I was asleep," she replied and feigned a loud yawn. "Maybe Azkaban is finally consuming you…or it could really be the ghost of your dead Althea."

"Mark my words, Derry, I will find what torments you."

"_You_ are what torments me," she explained, lying back on her bed. "Your existence really."

"Yes, still trying to discover a way to enter my cell and kill me?"

"Of course," she replied and frowned at the dried flakes of porridge in the matted, faded red curl that fell in her face—she thought she had removed all of it. Oh, that Sirius would save a week's ration of porridge just to throw at her! Why had she been so gullible as to approach the cell bars? "Now, I have things to do, Black, and I can't be bothered."

"Braiding your noose, perhaps?"

"It's already braided," she replied, slipping her hand underneath her pillow.

"Then use it!"

"I will!" she shouted back—her hand tightening around the makeshift noose.

Indeed, for the past month, Althea had braided a noose with strips of her robe, her blanket, any sort of fabric she could find that she could discreetly tear pieces from—there was always that chance of detection. The Ministry much preferred the incarcerated witch or wizard to slowly wither away and not take the initiative to take her or his own life. _What is the difference? In suicide and withering away, one both loses the will to live_, she thought, slipping her hand underneath her pillow once more. This time, her hand contacted the cool, smooth glass of the vial Dumbledore had provided her. Two days ago, Dumbledore had inspected the prison for the Wizengamot and stopped at her cell. Upon speaking to her, he slipped her the vial with the comment that she had truly witnessed a fate worse than death. _Who knew Dumbledore could be so merciful_, she thought, swirling the black liquid inside the vial. _Hanging and a poison…I'll accomplish something Sirius couldn't—killing me. I do so wish I could have killed him before I killed myself, but poisons are so fickle and deteriorate quickly_.

"The poison will kill me before the hanging does," she murmured, flinging the braided fabric over the rusted pipe that ran across her ceiling.

She tied a tight knot near the pipe and placed the noose around her neck. The noose was surprisingly soft and oddly comfortable as she tightened it so it fit snuggly around her neck. Uncorking the vial, she looked from the liquid, to the message on the wall, and outside her window as the waves crashed against the rocky shore. _I'll be buried on that shore_, she thought, looking upon the gravestones that marked past inmates. She lifted the vial to her lips and hesitated. _Funny, how my life should end_. She closed her eyes and the helpless, innocent form of her daughter materialized before her eyes. She thought of her last moments—her face buried against her daughter, her tears falling upon the blanket Lily had made…the snow, so deep, that burned her bare legs and hindered her escape. If only she had made it to that house…how different would her life have been? She opened her eyes and looked toward the wall she shared with Sirius. He was quiet. _You have some comfort in our deaths_, she thought, furrowing her brow. _I don't have that luxury_.

"God forgive me," she murmured and she downed the caustic, revolting poison and stepped off her bed….


	59. Alexandria, Egypt, November 1985

**Alexandria, Egypt, November 1985**

Althea's eyes snapped open. The room was bright—incredibly bright—and white, at which she blinked a few times to grow accustomed to the new assault upon her senses. No musty odor. No wailing. No screaming. No grey. The damp cold that permeated all things, gone. She gasped as the rush of memories—all memories—flooded her mind, which made her slightly nauseous. _I'm dead_, she wondered; however, her fingertips sensed the soft, comfortable mattress beneath her.

"Althea Rosemary, what have you done?"

_Old woman_! Enraged, Althea lunged forward, but was jerked back by the restraints that held her. She violently tugged upon the restraints, screaming as she kicked to break free. _I'm supposed to be dead! What is going on? I would have taken death over this old woman_, she thought, convulsing to break free of the restraints. Althea growled and screamed.

"Fuck!" she shouted, slamming her head against the pillow.

Gran slapped Althea across the face; the sting and the shock stopped Althea's writhing. "You will not speak such awful language!" she warned, raising her hand once more to Althea.

Althea eyed her grandmother's hand and smiled. "Fuck," she replied and immediately felt Gran's hand against her cheek. "Do it again, old woman."

Instead, Gran grabbed Althea's face as Althea laughed mirthlessly. "A murderess, a common whore, what have you become?" she whispered heatedly, squeezing Althea's face.

"I'm supposed to be dead!" she shouted and spat in Gran's face.

Gran released her grip, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and wiped her face. "Far from it, Althea Rosemary. You did exactly what Dumbledore and I hoped," she explained, placing the handkerchief back into her pocket.

"You—you both had this planned?" she asked, sitting up as far as the restraints would let her.

Gran nodded as she sat next to Althea. "You've returned to me and you'll recover here in Alexandria."

"Alexandria?" Althea snorted, looking out the window.

Sunlight. For the first time in over a year, Althea saw sunlight. How her body ached for it!

"Yes, under the direction of a dear friend, Sister Margaret Cortona, Althea Rosemary," Gran explained and Althea heard the footsteps of another in the room.

She turned in the direction of the footsteps and saw a small, elderly woman dressed in pale blue robes approaching her bed.

"Hello, Althea," Sister Cortona said, holding a mug and a plate of chocolate. "Here, drink this," she offered, holding the mug to Althea's lips.

Althea greedily drank the chocolate milk and coughed when she finished. "A convent," she murmured, shaking her head. "Only you'd think of sending me to a convent…surprised you didn't do this when I was fifteen," she continued, looking at the nun who continued to smile at her. "What are you so bloody happy about?"

"Althea!" Gran admonished and forced Althea to eat some chocolate.

Althea chewed on her chocolate, as she spoke, "What if I don't want to recover, hmm?"

"You will recover, you're a mother," Gran answered, forcing another piece of chocolate into Althea's mouth.

Althea chewed the chocolate and swallowed. "I'm not a mother," she laughed and Gran forced another piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"You are a mother, Althea Rosemary. One day Prudence will know about you—"

"No, she won't—"

"Children always know," she interrupted—her expression turned grim and she refused to look at Althea. "They always know that something is wrong—that it is not what it seems…anyway, eat," she continued and placed more chocolate in Althea's mouth. "You must regain your strength for your job."

Althea quickly swallowed the chocolate. "Job? What job?" she asked, searching Gran's face for some sort of answer.

"Upon your recovery, you will teach at Hogwarts," she answered, frowning at the empty plate. "Sister Margaret, may we have more chocolate, please?"

"Hogwarts? I can't teach there! Who would let me? Oh, Gran, what a laugh," she replied, laughing for the first time with humor. The sound of her happy laughter startled her and Althea quickly stopped.

"You will," she replied with determination, "or you'll be chucked back into Azkaban. It was part of the deal I agreed to with Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore agreed to this?" she asked and Gran nodded. "Only doing this to keep a bloody eye on me," she murmured, lowering her head and frowning. Refusing to look away from her tattered prison robes, Althea asked, "Why did you save me anyway?"

"Because I had to," she answered, resting her hand on Althea's arm.

The shock of Gran tenderly placing her hand on Althea startled her—Althea instinctively knocking Gran's touch away from her.

"Why?" she asked quietly, looking up at Gran.

Gran sighed and frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not ready to tell you why, Althea Rosemary," she began, placing her hand on Althea's arm once more. "Just know I don't want them to win—"

There was a knock upon the door. Gran quieted and the two women looked toward the doorway. There, wearing an elegantly embroidered muslin dress, stood Madame Allegra White. Althea felt her face flush and she straightened herself. Allegra looked about the room, nodded that it would do, and walked forward. Her eyes met with Althea and Allegra raised an eyebrow.

"I warned you about Jack."

Althea let out a noise of disgust.

"Look at me, Althea," she demanded quietly.

Althea felt the blush travel to her neck and chest. She refused to look upon her.

"He came for you seven days after you left," she said, keeping a foot distance from the bed. "At my doorstep, convinced he had made a mistake in leaving you—"

Hot tears escaped and trickled down Althea's cheeks. She felt ashamed because of them.

"You were gone, and I didn't have it in me to tell him where you were," she said and took the final step toward Althea. "I will tell him when I return," she said and sat upon the bed. "He will come to you, I am sure of it."

Althea tightly shut her eyes and swallowed. _I'd be better off dead_, she thought and wished she could wipe her eyes.

"You look so pathetic," Allegra whispered and Althea felt her soft handkerchief scented of lily of the valley against her cheek. "Agnes, leave us, please."

"I think it best—"

"_Agnes, please_," she implored and Althea felt Gran stand from the bed. "I must speak with our Althea, alone."

Once gone, Althea opened her eyes. The two women were alone.

"You didn't kill him as I thought you would," Allegra said plainly.

"What?"

Allegra leaned close to Althea—Allegra could not help but wrinkle her nose at the smell of Azkaban that Althea had become accustomed to. "Not even Dumbledore could intercede as much as I for you," she whispered, smoothing a faded red curl from Althea's face. "I've known who you are for a very long time," she said and lifted her wand to a matted curl. Althea's hair returned to its natural color. "You wanted to escape…and how could I not indulge you?" she said and gently tugged at the binding upon Althea's wrist.

Althea instinctively jerked her hand.

Allegra grabbed her hand and loosened the binding. "She has never been motherly toward you, has she?" she muttered and reached to untie other binding. "And you lost your mother so very young—"

"_Don't_—"

"I knew your father—"

"DID MY FATHER KNOW EVERY BLOODY WOMAN IN ENGLAND?" she shrieked and threw herself against the mattress.

Allegra blinked. "He spoke at the Salisbury often," she said and slightly tilted her head. "Your mother as well."

"Fantastic," she muttered. "Bloody fantastic."

Allegra let out a sigh and pulled something from her beaded purse. "You left this," she said and held it before Althea.

Althea looked to the photograph in Allegra's hand. It did not take Azkaban to remember her worst memory. Althea let out a sob and pushed herself toward the head of the bed—the bindings around her ankles painfully tightened. She didn't want to touch that photograph or be so close to it. How could something so pure and perfect come from someone so broken? _She doesn't deserve me as a mother_, she thought as she fought the urge to stare at the photograph of mother and daughter.

Allegra tapped her wand against Althea's shin and the bindings loosened. Althea scrambled to the head of the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Still, Allegra persisted and placed the photograph upon Althea's knees. The small photograph of Althea and the hour-old Prudence teetered upon her knees.

"Why did I give her away?" she whispered, hesitant to touch the photograph.

"You had to kill those that would murder her," Allegra answered and took Althea's hand. She forced Althea to grasp the photograph. "The Officials spoke openly of what happened to you," she said and placed her hand over her stomach. "I was horrified…a joke. You—a mother, a Healer—were a joke because of who you loved," she continued and pulled a face. "Some thought you deserved it," she added and her body tensed.

Althea frowned as Allegra's expression grew dark.

"It wasn't as satisfying taking down Crouch Sr. as I thought it would be," she said and looked above Althea's head, seemingly lost in thought. "Death Eaters free and allowed to mingle with those they tortured without repercussion."

Althea sat forward.

"It just wasn't right."

Althea's mouth opened. "You knew Hare was one of them?"

Allegra nodded.

Althea slammed her fists upon the bed. "Did you use me?"

Allegra shook her head. "We do what needs to be done," she whispered, a cruel smirk played across her lips. "Dead, Azkaban, or useless to the cause."

Althea let out a morbid laugh of surprise.

"You were stupid and were caught," she said and stood. "Come," she said and held out her hands. "You look dreadful in earth and grey."

Althea carefully placed the precious photograph upon the bed and took Allegra's hands.

"You don't need to do this," Althea said, as she stood upon the smooth cold tile.

Allegra waved her hand as her other hand poured the pink liquid into the running water. Fluffy pink towels sat upon the chair before the dressing table and new robes of muslin hung upon the door. One bath per month was all the prisoners were allowed. Althea wrinkled her nose at the slick of grime that would need cleaning from the bathtub. _I wasn't human_, she thought, hesitant to touch the crystal bottles of lotions and perfume upon the dressing table.

"Really, I can manage—"

"Nonsense," she said and adjusted the knobs. "Now, eat the chocolate."

Althea raised her eyebrow at the silver platter full of fine chocolates upon the dressing table.

"No Curly Wurly?"

Allegra made a noise of disgust.

"I like them," she muttered as she went to pick up a piece of chocolate.

A bony hand clawing for a piece of chocolate caused Althea to jerk her hand away. It was a reflection…her reflection. It had been over a year since she saw herself last. A murky puddle did not adequately portray one's reflection. Satisfied that Allegra was preoccupied with the bath, Althea slid herself to the front of the dressing table. She slowly lifted her eyes from the chocolates, the perfumes, and the makeup upon the dressing table to the large mirror before her. She gasped at the sight of herself. She began to tremble and blinked away the tears that blurred her vision. The tattered grey robes of Azkaban hung upon her sickly frame—her figure, so admired, gone. Her hair did not hold its curl, but was a matted, frizzy nest. She raised her bony hand to her shockingly sallow face…it's beauty lost. Her blue eyes held in sunken, darkened sockets were lifeless. She looked as though she were a corpse. Allegra joined her in the reflection. She turned Althea's face toward hers.

"Your beauty," she said and stroked Althea's cheek, "it will come back."

She took Althea's hand and led her toward the claw-footed bath. Althea joints ached at its inviting nature: the rose perfume, the large pink bubbles suspended above the water, and the temperature she knew to be perfect. Suddenly, she felt Allegra's wand tracing the seams of her robes. She felt the robes begin to fall—

"Wait," she said and grasped her falling robes, "turn round."

Allegra huffed.

"Do it, please," she asked, rolling her shoulders forward and tightening her grip upon her robes.

"Right," she sighed and turned as not to face Althea.

Once satisfied at Allegra's compliance, Althea loosened her grip upon the rough robes and let them fall from her skeletal frame. She lifted her right leg—covered in dirt and long black hairs—into the tub. She let out a pleasurable moan as she sunk her foot in further. It was not the chilly seawater the prisoners had tossed upon them once a month. She fully submerged herself in the invitingly warm water. Immediately, Allegra set about casting charms to untangle Althea's hair. Althea yelped at the tugging.

"Couldn't you—"

"You have year of Azkaban," she said and grunted, casting another charm. "I might have to cut it."

Althea gasped as Allegra cast the charm to cut her hair. She raised her fingers to her shortly cropped hair.

"It'll grow," she said and Althea winced as Allegra roughly slathered shampoo on Althea's scalp.

Althea closed her eyes as not to get the shampoo in them. She would be pruned before she was fully cleaned. Allegra's fingers kneading her scalp created a pleasant sensation within Althea. It was the first pleasant sensation that was not taken away forcibly by dementors. Dementors. Sirius. She had failed to kill him. A year next to his cell and she accomplished nothing except for stabbing him with a sharpened chair leg. She leaned forward as Allegra rinsed the shampoo from her hair—the ambient noise briefly overtaken by the rush of water. He would be humming to himself about now, wouldn't he? Or screaming at her to quiet? He seemed to yearn for her attention, her company, as the others around them were too mad or too despondent to communicate. The hatred kept them speaking. _Would you care I'm gone_, she wondered as Allegra slathered more shampoo upon Althea's head.

"The dementors carried you past his cell," Allegra said and paused from massaging Althea's scalp. "They said he was white and shaking, as if he saw a ghost," she continued as her fingers kneaded circles into Althea's scalp.

Althea was silent. _Would you cry for me, then_? Sirius Black was just as an open, festering wound as the day she arrived in Azkaban. He was alive and she had hoped herself dead.

"Maybe it'll kill him," Althea muttered, resting her forearms upon her bended knees. She closed her eyes as Allegra rinsed her hair once more.

"We can hope," she sighed and Althea's eyes widened as Allegra applied more shampoo.

Althea pursed her lips. "You knew what Jack was—"

"Yes."

"You didn't," she began to ask and popped one of the larger pink bubbles, "kill him, did you?"

Allegra let out a small chuckle. "No," she said and leaned close to Althea, "but he didn't get those thousand Galleons the Ministry had promised."

"No?"

Allegra seemed to delight in telling Althea, "He should've taken your offer."


	60. Alexandria, Egypt, November 1987

**Alexandria, Egypt, April 1987**

_When we are our most still_.

Her eyes closed, Althea meditated upon the stillness and the supposed profound questions answered when one succumbs to such quiet reflection. She frowned slightly. How was she to meditate when the brightness of the sunshine interrupted her thoughts? It was just as if she had her eyes opened. Was the sun always so bright? She found herself squinting. _Listen, be still_, she thought and sighed. _Still_. The sounds of the birds in the courtyard made it difficult to quiet her mind; however, Althea was never truly able to quiet her mind even as a young girl. Her mind drifted to the summer of her seventh birthday when her father brought her to an ashram. Softly spoken words and gentle guided imagery could not calm her fidgeting mind. In her best imitation of someone finding transcendental peace, her right eye snapped open for a furtive peek at her father. Her father, with that ridiculous flower in his hair, looked very bored and—not having attained inner peace or fulfillment—made a rude face at Althea. _I reckon trying to find oneself is a Morrigan trait_, she thought as she exhaled. She focused on the rise and fall of her chest, each breath a purpose, which seemed like such an odd thing to do—to become conscious of one's own breathing. Althea inhaled the sweet, fragrant air and held it. _What if I stop_, she wondered, the feeling of tightness in her chest increasing. Althea struggled against the tightness until she could no longer do so and quickly exhaled.

"Using your will to struggle against what is innate is futile," Sister Margaret said. "A child of two understands this."

Althea ignored Sister Margaret and she slowly stretched out her arms to her sides—the wet, warm grass contacted her naked arms, her fingers gently stroked the thick blades.

"You have a visitor," she said and Althea's eyes snapped open.

She quickly blinked her eyes to adjust to the sunlight. "A visitor?" she asked, sitting up and resting her hands behind her.

Sister Margaret sat upon the ledge of the intricately carved white marble fountain. Althea's eyes wandered from the geometric shapes and flowers to Sister Margaret's pale blue habit and to her serene expression. She was a woman of at least eighty-five, her skin weathered with age but her brown eyes still held the liveliness of youth.

Sister Margaret nodded. "A visitor," she repeated and stood. "I will bring him to you shortly."

Althea gasped, sitting up straight. "Him?" she questioned, a small grin emerging. "It's not Gran?"

"It's definitely _not_ your grandmother," she said and looked toward the darkened doorway of the convent house. "You'll be very pleased, I think." She motioned with her hand for Althea's visitor to come forward.

Althea leaned forward, eager to see her visitor. She smoothed her plain white shift and bit her bottom lip in anticipation. Slowly, out of the shadows of the ancient white marble archway, Remus stepped forward. She felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach as she looked upon her friend. His hair was shorter than when she saw him last and his clothes were new. _I never thought I would see him again_, she thought as Remus—who looked unsure—let a small smile escape. Indeed, Althea never thought that Remus would return to her. She was only at the convent for one month when Remus came to visit at Gran's request. The hatred of Azkaban was still fresh and her ugliest memories—even perceived memories of Remus's abandonment of her—surfaced. She was so violent, so abusive with her words…it took three attendants to restrain her from him. Althea stood and, with her thin fingers, tucked a black curl behind her ear—conscious of her thin appearance.

Remus stopped before her, partially shading her from the sun. He nodded. "Hello."

Tears welling in her eyes, she started to tremble. "Hello," she said hoarsely, and overcome, she threw her arms around his neck. She pulled him firmly to her as her tears trickled onto his collar. "I'm so sorry."

Remus slowly lifted his arms around her, holding her tightly to him.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "I'm so sorry."

"I should've done more for you," he whispered, his warm hand stroking her spine. "I abandoned you—"

Althea pulled away. "You've done everything," she said, looking into his pale eyes. "Everything changed when I lost you."

"No," he murmured.

"_Yes_," she said and sniffed back tears. She frowned at the patches of her tears upon his light blue shirt. "I love you," she said as Remus wiped the stray tears from her face, "you are my dearest friend, and I—"

Remus smiled warmly at her as his thumb brushed her cheek.

Her lower lip trembled. "Your hand," she said, her eyes focused on his right hand upon her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

Remus casually pulled his hand from her cheek, and he frowned thoughtfully as he looked at the back of his hand. "It's fine, really," he said as he further inspected it. "I reckon you're the first witch to bite a werewolf, though."

Althea let out a small laugh and took his hand. She guided him toward the fountain edge and offered for him to sit. He did so and sighed, looking about the courtyard. The high, white stone walls contrasted with the lush dark greens of the palms, and birds flitted about bushes with large flowers of fuchsia and purple.

"How is everything?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap.

"All right," he said—a small crease appeared between his eyebrows. He let out a gasp. "Oh," he said and reached into his trouser pocket, "I'm published."

"Published?" she replied, eager to see the folded papers. "When?"

Remus unfolded the manuscript. "Three months ago," he said and handed it to her. "It's dreadfully boring—"

"No," she breathed, furrowing her eyebrows. "You wrote this," she continued her forefinger caressing his name, "and it's brilliant."

Remus let out a small laugh. "It's about kelpies."

"Yes," she said, nodding, "and it's your work."

"Thank you," he said and went to take the manuscript from her, but Althea pulled it away. "Althea," he laughed, "you can't find it that interesting."

"I do," she said and smiled. "You work here, then?" she asked, pointing to Aelian Research Institute.

Remus sniffed and shook his head. "No," he said, "I work for a little magizoology magazine."

"Yeah?" she asked, sitting forward.

"A correspondent," he said, his forefinger tracing the geometric pattern of the white tile. "It's not much, but it's about as steady as I can get…for now." He furrowed his eyebrows and hesitated before he continued, "There is a potion—well—it's in the early stages, but it could render me harmless at the full moon."

Althea, wide-eyed, gasped.

"It's theory, really. I have no hope of brewing it myself," he said and sighed. "It seems as if it requires a very specific type of wolfsbane…the late summer blossoms from Siberia."

"Siberia?"

"Unfortunately," he said, wrinkling his nose. "It seems to have the best effect."

"I'll buy you an entire field," she said, tugging at his shirtsleeve.

Remus murmured his thanks. He inhaled a shallow breath and licked his lips. She knew he was about to ask her about her time in Alexandria. Althea's eyes drifted to the white stone walls—she much preferred this prison to the other. She was not yet allowed to venture out of the convent walls. She spent most of her day in solitude in the courtyard or in the library reading the various books Sister Margret had chosen for her on the themes of forgiveness, unconditional love, and redemption. During prayer, she fought the constant urge to yawn, and if her mind would drift to thoughts of Prudence she would knead the dough with greater vigor. She was alive and not in Azkaban—what more could Althea hope for?

"How…" he began to ask quietly, "are things?"

Althea shrugged. "Good, I guess," she said and looked to her sandaled feet. She swallowed and added, "I'm to teach at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

Althea nodded and hoped Remus would object to such an absurd notion of a murderess instructing children; however, Remus remained silent.

"Muggle Studies," she said and Remus raised an eyebrow. "I reckon with my past against Death Eaters I wouldn't be an appropriate choice for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Remus's lips contorted and quivered—he coughed, unsure if he should laugh.

Althea's lips upturned into a smile. "One can joke after Azkaban."

"Indeed," he replied, "but why Hogwarts?"

Althea looked out before her in the distance at the small pond covered with blue water lilies. She placed a hand upon her abdomen. The small pink oval scars would remain—no Concealment Charm or Transfiguration Spell would hide such Dark Magic. The queasy feeling returned to her stomach. How was she—a woman such as her—to teach children? She had written Dumbledore and outlined her reservations of her appointment, but Dumbledore cheerfully replied that he was looking forward to her seated at the Head Table at the Welcoming Feast. _Dumbledore is mad_.

"It was part of the agreement."

"Oh."

Althea closed her eyes. She would be five now. Her hand drifted from her abdomen to the pocket of her dress. She could feel the outline of the photograph of mother and child.

"I can't have children," she said and opened her eyes.

Remus's expression was solemn.

"That night—that night I was tortured, I was cursed," she said, resting her hands at her sides. "I've been evaluated at St. Mungo's, Nonnatus…everywhere, really. They've tried to reverse it, but it doesn't—it doesn't help."

She felt Remus take her hand in his. He tenderly pressed it.

"I haven't told many…" she said and looked up at him.

Remus nodded.

"She's all—" she began and stopped. She furrowed her eyebrows. "One day, I will see her."

"Yes," he said quietly.

"One day, she'll see me, and I don't—I don't want her to see me like this," she said. "To know what I've done."


	61. Hogwarts, September 1, 1987

**Hogwarts, September 1, 1987**

_What am I doing here_, Althea thought as the large doors shut behind her—the loud echo caused her wince slightly. _I really shouldn't be allowed around children; I don't consider myself a good role model…what is Dumbledore thinking? Is Dumbledore thinking? Of course, he's thinking—just not thinking as a normal person would think_.

"I remember you," she heard a voice say to her right.

Althea quickly turned to face Filch, just as grim and surly as she had last seen him over ten years ago.

"Locking my Mrs. Norris in that broom cupboard, yes I remember you," he continued, narrowing his eyes.

Althea bit her lip as she did her best not to snicker. _Which broom cupboard_, she reminisced, looking at Mrs. Norris as the cat weaved between Filch's legs. _How many times had we locked that obnoxious cat in a broom cupboard, a drawer…that one time we almost succeeded in boxing her up and sending her to Ecuador. Unfortunately, Filch interrupted us at the last minute and we had to chuck that crying cat out of the box, and then pretend we were snogging in the Owlery. It took twenty minutes to remove the owl feathers from my hair—oh, but we had that meddling cat_.

"It was never proven we did so," she replied with a small smile. "Anyway, I suppose you brought my bags…" she started, but trailed off as Filch walked away from her. "Right, you odd little man," she murmured, frowning, "what do I do now?"

_This place has not changed. The same portraits, the same smell…honestly, Hogwarts must have always been a musty castle—and drafty, too_, she thought, snugly wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. _No, this place truly has not changed…. I wonder how many of my old professors are still here. I thought many of them would retire after we left—well, except for_—

"Good morning," she said with forced happiness as McGonagall strode to greet her.

McGonagall pulled Althea into a tight hug. "I almost didn't recognize you," she replied, holding Althea in an unreasonably long embrace. "I didn't realize you would arrive so early. I thought you'd take the Hogwarts Express."

Althea awkwardly jerked herself from McGonagall's embrace. "I was, but I decided against it. I wanted to be completely settled before the feast tonight."

As McGonagall pulled away, she inspected Althea. "Yes, you need to eat; you're so thin—look at you—and your hair, it's shorter," she commented and tugged at a shoulder length curl.

Althea blushed and stroked her hair. Since Azkaban, she had become more self-conscious of her appearance. Her figure had lost its youthful fullness, her arms and shoulder no longer bore tattoos of the Thyra, her eyes were dull and lifeless, and on many occasions, she forced herself to smile.

"You don't like it?" she asked, smoothing a curl behind her ear.

McGonagall shook her head. "No, no, it's lovely. I would never have expected you to cut your hair. You took such great pride in its length. I'll never forget the time Sirius…oh, never mind," she said and rested her hand on Althea's arm.

"It's all right," she replied quietly, "it has been some time now."

_Almost six years_, she thought and gently bit her bottom lip. _It was only this year that I could say his name without the bile rising in my throat_. Ever since his imprisonment, Sirius's name was always spoken in hushed tones around Althea, and in some circles, his name had become as feared as Voldemort. The hushed tones and refusals to utter his name were welcomed by her, for before her time in Azkaban, the mention of his name caused enormous amounts of rage and hate—to the point, she lost herself and became as evil as she thought he was—it took Azkaban for her to see the truth. Sirius was broken and pathetic, and upon a year of reflection, Althea slowly began to feel sorry for him. He had created his hell with no hope of redemption. His ego feasted upon by dementors, his guilt was exposed to Althea. He had killed James and Lily, whether willingly or out of fear for Althea's safety, she did not know. He had killed them and that was all he would remember. However, the forgiveness Sister Margaret talked about was elusive to Althea. She would never forgive him.

"Yes, it has been some time," McGonagall replied, frowning thoughtfully. "How many years has it been since I've seen you last? Six?" she asked and Althea nodded. McGonagall sighed before she continued, "Your grandmother has left me completely ignorant of your whereabouts. Of course, she always kept me from you."

"Yes, Gran is the overprotective sort," Althea replied and sighed. "I am the only one she has left. She was never right after my father died…sort of touched in the head, you know," she explained and pointed to her temple.

"Even before," she remarked quietly. "Accused my sister Vesta of stealing you."

Althea produced a nervous laugh. "Oh, Auntie," she replied with an uncomfortable smile. "So, where could I—"

"Where have you been?" McGonagall interrupted, looking at Althea inquisitively.

Althea took a deep breath. "Where have I been?" she asked and bit her bottom lip.

_It's already starting_, she thought as McGonagall nodded with genuine interest. _If there is anyone I won't be able to fool, it's McGonagall. Bloody hell, of all the people I have to first meet._

"Well, after Prudence passed, I spent my time as a Relief Healer in Transylvania," she explained, hoping to satisfy McGonagall's curiosity.

"Yes, yes, I knew about the Relief Healing," she replied plainly, waving her hand dismissively. "But after. You couldn't have spent all these years in Transylvania."

"No, no, I couldn't have," she replied quietly, looking at her shoes. "Well, I suppose—"

"Althea, you're here," Dumbledore interrupted, which caused Althea to jump slightly—she had not heard his entrance.

Both Althea and McGonagall turned their attention toward Dumbledore. "Oh hello, Headmaster," Althea replied with a weak smile. "I was just—"

"I'm glad to see you've made it safely from the Congo," he continued, looking at her from over his half-moon glasses.

"The Congo?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned from Dumbledore to Althea—Althea smiled sheepishly.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Althea's arm. "Yes, I'm sure once she's settled Althea will tell us all about the headhunters, witch doctors, pirates, and all sorts of sordid things she encountered on her travels," he explained with a small smile as he ushered Althea from McGonagall.

Althea sighed with relief as Dumbledore guided her through the corridor. "Thank you, Headmaster. Clever with the Congo," she whispered as Dumbledore directed her toward a door.

Dumbledore stopped mid-turn of the doorknob. "Yes, I must say it was rather clever," he replied, smiling to himself. "I believe you'll be pleased with your office," he continued as he opened the door. "You might recognize a few of the articles."

The late summer sun cascaded through the large windows, highlighting the Muggle masks and paintings her father had acquired during his travels. Althea smiled as she walked toward her desk—_her_ desk. She was a professor. _I would never have imagined myself back at Hogwarts teaching_, she thought, her fingers lazily stroking the rough grain of the ancient wooden desk. She paused for a moment, quietly laughed to herself, and directed her attention toward the bookcase behind the desk. _A few of my father's books and travel journals that I have never seen before_, she thought, her fingertips lightly touching the worn book spines. _Where did Dumbledore find these_?

"Your father left those in my possession," Dumbledore answered, "I thought it was time they were returned to you."

Althea picked up a picture frame and smiled. "Thank you," she replied as she looked at the photograph of herself sitting between her parents. The young Althea squirmed and giggled as her parents kissed her cheeks. "Thank you very much."

"You've never seen that photograph before, have you?"

"No," she answered, stroking the side of her mother's face with her thumb. "It's been so long…I almost forgot what she looked like," she continued, slowly looking from the photograph to Dumbledore. "Sometimes, I wonder if my memories are real or if I've just imagined them—grasping at something, I suppose."

"It's not unusual to want to remember our loved ones," he replied, looking at Althea thoughtfully.

Althea placed the photograph on the shelf, and leaned her back against the bookcase. "Lily and I—while we were here—would try to imagine what you were like when you were around our ages," she began and laughed, rubbing her forehead. Althea folded her arms before she continued, "She thought—well, we thought—you had some clandestine, tragic love affair…we were two very silly girls—our heads in romance books and not in our textbooks."

Dumbledore laughed as he studied Althea. "If I were to have a clandestine, tragic love affair, I'm sure all of Hogwarts would be informed of it," he replied and sighed deeply.

"It wouldn't be very clandestine, would it?" she asked, smiling.

Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you are wondering why I hired you," he began and Althea nodded. "I need you—not for your teaching abilities—you will make a fine teacher, but I need you to complete something for me…I need you to complete your parents' work."

Althea lifted herself from the bookcase. "Their work? The work that brought about their deaths?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Dumbledore nodded. "Behind you are your parents' notes on the subject—"

"Headmaster, sir, I don't believe I am the one to complete it. I mean—"

"I believe you are the only one who can complete this work," he continued over Althea's protests. "You will be safe here. No one, but us know that the work still exists."

Althea was about to protest, but realized this was part of the deal. Her life was no longer her own, but belonged to Dumbledore. _I have no choice_, she thought, looking at the worn journals behind her. _I have the rest of my life to complete their work, but why is this work so important? Anyone could complete this—why me_?

"Once you begin to read the journals, you will discover the reason for its importance," he explained and walked toward the door. "It is some time before the feast. You have plenty of time to discover all that is in your office."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"However, we would enjoy your presence in the staffroom before the feast," he continued as he opened the door. "We've arranged a welcome party for you—"

"Oh, that wasn't really—"

"The others are eager to meet you," he said and Althea knew any objection would be swiftly squashed.

"I look forward to it," Althea murmured as she watched Dumbledore shut the door.

Althea looked back to her bookcase. Her stomach tightened and she took a deep breath as she touched one of the book spines. Slowly, she slid the book forward, but thought better of it. _Later_, she thought, sliding the book back in its place. _I don't want to further spoil my day_.

* * *

"More wine?"

Althea held up her hand. "Oh no, no thank you," she replied, shaking her head. "I think one glass is fine, Professor Sinistra," she added, pointing to her glass.

Professor Sinistra laughed with an awkward loudness, induced by the wine. "Oh please, call me Berenice," she replied, pouring more wine for herself. "We're _colleagues_," she added, taking a sip from her glass.

"Right," Althea laughed nervously, placing her glass on the table next to her. "It will take time to grow accustomed to being allowed in the staffroom…well, legally, anyway."

Sinistra took another large sip of wine. "You, snuck in the staffroom?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the wine.

"Well, yeah," she answered, folding her arms. "It was ages ago when I attended, but we'd sneak in and steal a bottle or two of wine," she continued and motioned with her head to the door that led to the wine cellar.

Sinistra looked at the door to the wine cellar. "Really," she breathed, continuing to look at the door. "You're telling me that students, _students_ broke those charms?" she asked, looking back to Althea.

"There weren't charms guarding the alcohol when I was a student," she replied and winked.

Suddenly, the staffroom door behind Althea opened and Sinistra rolled her eyes. "Let me introduce you to him," she murmured, frowning. "He spends all of his time in a dungeon so he's not the most socially adept."

"Oh, I don't mind," she replied, smiling nervously.

_Another professor I have to meet_, she thought, straightening her robes. _I thought I met all of them, or maybe I haven't. I don't really remember. I'm tired of smiling_.

"Oh, you will," Sinistra remarked and smiled to greet the newly arrived professor.

Althea turned to greet the new professor. _Oh, I do mind_, she thought, frowning. Snape's face paled as Sinistra pushed Althea forward to greet him. Snape had not changed. He was a little older, but still as sallow skinned and greasy as he was before. Althea wondered if he owned anything other than black.

"Severus, this is Althea Morrigan, the new Muggle Studies Professor," she explained and Althea did her best to nod respectfully. "Althea, this is Severus Snape, Professor of Potions," she continued and Severus did not nod. He stared at her—an awful sneer developing across his face.

Althea refused to hide her dissatisfaction any longer—she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I think I'll have another Pumpkin Pasty," she said curtly and walked toward the pastry table.

Althea took the largest Pumpkin Pasty and shoved half of it in her mouth. _Of all the horrible, awful people I could have possibly worked with, this has to be the worst_, she thought as she swallowed the large bite. _Unbelievable Dumbledore would hire such a—a thing. To let that man around children to teach them…traumatize them more like it. What am I thinking? He hired me—well, I didn't apply, but still_, she thought and popped the rest of the Pumpkin Pasty in her mouth. _I wonder if other professors are atoning for past sins_?

Althea felt Snape to her left and painfully swallowed the rest of the Pumpkin Pasty. "Snape," she said coolly, taking a piece of Professor Flitwick's Famous Fudge.

"Muggle Studies?" Snape sneered, pouring a glass of wine. "Flunked out of Healer Training, I see."

Althea's jaw tightened. "No," she said sharply, taking a bite of fudge. "I wanted a change of career."

"Or they asked you to change."

Althea quickly turned to face Snape. "Couldn't get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job so had to settle for Potions?"

She smiled at the twitch of Snape's jaw.

"How many have they gone through since you've started?" she asked and popped the rest of the fudge in her mouth.

Snape's nostrils flared. "It would be wise for you to keep your distance from me," he said, staring Althea down. "Stay out of my dungeon—"

"Gladly—"

"Of course, you'll spend most of your time in the Hog's Head—"

Althea sighed. "You can be assured I will never go in _your_ dungeon," she began, picking up another piece of fudge, "but that's where they're keeping you now, is it? You were never one for the sun, were you now, Snape? Always afraid the grease in your hair would catch fire, I suppose."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "My, what a strong woman you've become," he began—his voice waspish. "Able to make remarks without the bully of a boyfriend behind you. Where is he now?" he continued, a maniacal gleam shown in his beady eyes. "Right, in Azkaban."

"He's only where you should be," she replied heatedly, the fudge crumbling in her hand.

Snape's face changed to one of grotesque triumph. "You think you have my character all mapped out, do you Morrigan? You're wrong again—as usual," he sneered, showing his uneven, yellowed teeth. "Just like you were wrong about Black. It cost you greatly, didn't it?"

Without hesitation, Althea grabbed a butter knife from the pastry table and held it to Snape's throat.

"What a lovely first impression to the rest of the faculty," he whispered, slightly leaning away from the knife.

Althea held the knife closer to his throat. "I'll slit your throat," she growled through her teeth.

Suddenly, to her left, she heard Dumbledore clear his throat. Snape's eyes widened briefly. Althea hesitated and looked to the dull silver knife in her hand. _What have you done_? She placed the knife back on the table and took out her wand.

"And that's when I was able to find my wand and blast the headhunter with a Stunner Spell," she continued and mimicked blasting Snape with a Stunner Spell.

"Oh," Flitwick gasped and Althea turned to see the rest of the faculty staring at the pair. "Scary stuff, the Congo."

Althea bit her lip as she placed her wand in her robe pocket. "You have no idea," she replied, blushing slightly.

"I believe the students have arrived," McGonagall said, standing.

"Ah, everyone," Dumbledore said happily, motioning toward the door.

Althea forced a smile as she allowed the rest of the faculty to leave before her. She turned to leave, thought better of it, and took another piece of fudge.

* * *

"You can do this Althea," she said aloud, looking at herself in her mirror. She made a determined face, but frowned. "Oh bloody hell, who am I fooling?" she lamented, resting her head against the mirror. "Remus is the professor, not me. Lily would have the biggest laugh at this," she murmured, and looked up toward the ceiling. "I hope you're laughing."

Sighing, she charmed the mirror smaller and placed it in her desk drawer.

"Right, papers, books, quills sharpened…I think everything is here," she said and closed her case. "Everything except my nerves."

Althea left her office and walked the corridor to her classroom, in her mind feverishly reciting the day's lesson plan. _I'll introduce myself—nicely, of course. I won't say too much about myself because I have a tendency to babble when nervous—how does Remus do this? Anyway, I call the roll—that will take up time. Then, I'll ask their expectations for this class—more time gone unless they're shy…damn it, I'm here_, she thought, looking at the large door that led to her classroom. Inside, third year students would be waiting for her, their faces transfixed on her, as she would walk to her desk—she prayed she would not stumble. Althea took a deep breath as she placed her palm on the doorknob. _You can do this_, she thought, releasing her breath and opening the door.

The students sat at their desks, some with books opened, but all with parchment, ink, and quills, poised to begin the lesson and to take notes. Althea smiled slightly and placed her case on her desk. Doing her best not to frown at her trembling hands as she fumbled to open her case, Althea quickly glanced up to observe the students intently looking at her. _What a brilliant way to start_, she thought as her case finally opened—the top of the case slamming into the desk. _Come on, Althea, calm yourself—they're thirteen. It's the first day and they're not expecting much. Muggle Studies has always been an easy class. Jane took it to catch up on the new editions of _Witch Weekly_ and James and Sirius took it too catch up on sleep—wait, they took Divination for that, too. No, Muggle Studies was for skiving off because they'd lament and groan as they went past Arithmancy to get Remus's attention. Oh, they were so loud too when Remus would ignore them! Then I'd pretend to swoon and Remus would volunteer to take me to the hospital wing. Bloody hell, I'm stalling_, she thought, placing her papers on her desk. _Right, get on with it_!

Althea cleared her throat as she leaned against the front of her desk. "Good morning," she said and the students murmured a lazy greeting. "Well," she continued, sitting atop the desk, which brought a gasp from a few of the students, "I'm Professor Althea Morrigan—oh, you won't need your quills today."

A number of students sighed gratefully and Althea smiled.

"You've probably done enough writing already," she remarked and some students nodded. "Potions, right? Two feet of parchment?"

"No," a blonde-haired boy grumbled, folding his arms, "two rolls."

Althea whistled at the amount. "Two rolls of parchment on the first day? He must have been in an awful mood," she replied, letting her feet kick against her desk. This was not so difficult. She had found something in common with them—a mutual dislike of Snape.

"No, he was in a very good mood, Professor," another boy with sandy blond hair said, twirling his quill across his desk.

More of the students started to murmur about how awful Snape was as a teacher.

"All right, all right," Althea said, withholding her laughter, holding up her hands. "I think you should continue these conversations at lunch. I think I should call the roll to learn your names," she continued, reaching behind her for the roll. "Gryffindor…Hufflepuff…Ravenclaw…no, no Slytherin," she commented, looking at the parchment.

She slowly lifted her eyes to see shocked faces.

"It was sort of a joke when I was a student," she explained and the students laughed nervously. "Anyway, I suppose I could ask you to say your name and where you're from," she continued, which brought groans from a few of the students. "Don't worry, I'll start. Well, I've already introduced myself as Althea Morrigan, and I spent my last few years as a Relief Healer—yes?" she asked, pointing to a redheaded girl with a raised hand.

"What is a Relief Healer?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Oh, it is a special program for Healers to provide their services to remote areas. For example, I started as a Relief Healer in a remote village in Transylvania—"

"Whoa, cool," a boy with black hair blurted.

"Where else?" another boy with curly brown hair asked.

"The Congo and Egypt," she answered, smiling—no, this was not bad at all.

"I've been to Egypt," a girl with wavy, blonde hair said excitedly.

"Really, where?" Althea asked, leaning forward on her desk.

"Alexandria," she said proudly.

"I spent two years there. Remarkable library, don't you think? Pity Muggles think it destroyed," she remarked and smiled. "Oh, but enough of me. I'd like to know your names and where you're from. We'll start here," she continued, pointing to her right as the children groaned.

Althea listened and nodded with each introduction. However, the introductions did not take as long as she expected. _Right, their expectations should consume the rest of the class_, she thought as the last child finished his introduction.

"Fantastic," she said, clasping her hands. "Now, what are your expectations for this class? What do you expect to learn this year?" she asked and the students frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, Matthew."

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows. "To learn about electrikaty?"

"Excellent, you're very close. It's _electricity_," she explained and stood. "Here, I'll write it on the blackboard." Althea took a piece of purple chalk and wrote _electricity_ on the blackboard. "You may want to write this down," she added, turning around; however, the children did not reach for their quills. "What's the matter?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Yes, James, right?"

The brown-haired boy nodded. "The professors usually use their wands to write," he explained, pointing to the wand sticking out of Althea's pocket.

"Right, they do. Good observation," she replied, smiling. "It is a Muggle Studies course, after all. Now," she continued, rolling the piece of chalk between her index finger and thumb, "this year you'll learn the basics—electricity, automobiles, items around a Muggle house, Muggle dress—those sorts of things. As you progress in this class, year by year, you'll learn Muggle music, literature, sport, etiquette—do any of you know how to use a telephone?"

The children shook their heads.

"It's a method of Muggle communication. You'll learn how to use one—possibly later this year," she explained, sitting atop her desk.

A black-haired girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Katherine."

"Will we learn about Muggle school?" she asked and bit her bottom lip.

"Of course," Althea replied and the girl smiled slightly. "I believe that is a great first assignment—oh, don't groan! I won't have you use any parchment! No, what I want you to do is think of classes a Muggle student your age might take," she said as the class quieted. "For example, all of you take Herbology—the study of magical plants. A Muggle student has a similar class: Botany—the study of nonmagical plants. So you see, you can start by looking at what you take and thinking of what they would take. I believe that if you have friends with Muggle siblings, they could help you with ideas. Be creative and don't worry if it's right or wrong. Next class, I will lecture on the sorts of classes Muggle students take…I know you have enough work with that Potions essay."

The black-haired boy groaned.

"Oh, Vincent it's not that horrible…is it?"

"The properties of wormwood," he replied gruffly.

"It is," she replied, making a face the children laughed at. "Wormwood, third year? I don't believe I learned that until Healer training—oh! I think I might have given you a clue as to one of the properties," she explained with feigned innocence.

She fought a small smile as the children scrambled to write on their parchments.

"Please don't tell Professor Snape I helped you with your Potions essay. I dare say he wouldn't like that."

"We won't," Katherine replied happily.

"Good—oh the bell!" Althea replied with genuine relief. "Remember, just think of classes!" she said over the noise of students chatting and packing their bags.

She nodded and forced more smiles as the students filed out of her classroom. Alone, Althea observed her classroom—_her_ classroom. The thought that she would be a teacher was still as preposterous as the day Gran told her. Sighing, she flung herself backwards onto her desk and covered her face with her hands. No, it was not as awful as she thought it would be—not as difficult as Snape had made Potions. _Now I understand why James and Sirius skived off this class_, she thought, stretching her legs out before her—her foot accidentally kicking a desk.

"What an absolutely useless class!" she lamented and groaned.

"Precisely why you teach it," she heard Snape say from the doorway.

Althea lowered her hands and looked at Snape. "Clever, but I think I'll apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position after Professor Winchester retires after this year—his heart, you know. I reckon I'll get it before you," she replied with feigned sweetness.

"Remembering your days at Hogwarts," he sneered, his eyes narrowing.

Althea laughed as she looked from side to side at the desk. "Why a desk when there are comfortable beds in the boys' dormitories as you so like to remind? Honestly, do you have some sort of list you read off, or have you spent these ten years memorizing them?" she remarked, still reclining across her desk. "Very pathetic, even for you."

Snape folded his arms. "Have you forgotten how to sit up?"

Althea rolled her eyes. "No," she said, sitting up, "just demonstrating something you've never seen. Why are you still here?"

"The Headmaster would like a word with you before lunch," he answered, annoyed.

Althea sighed as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Fine," she replied, "you can go now."

Without another word, Snape turned and left her classroom. _Lord, give me the strength not to blast him across a corridor and into something incredibly sharp and metal_, she thought, looking up toward the ceiling.


	62. Hogwarts, Early June 1994

**Hogwarts, Early June 1994**

_Althea,_

_Thank you for allowing me to view your results on flobberworms and earthworms. An archaic virus, deep within the genome, is a very intriguing possibility. An American colleague of mine, Professor Gregor, is very interested in researching the correlation between the biological component of magic and the immune response. He is currently studying the rapid healing of injuries of the Quodpot team, the Morgantown Mothmen. The idea that magic is a byproduct of a heightened immune response is fascinating. Is the secret in the methods employed, or does it lie within the wizard body?_

_From my humble laboratory in Prague, I am now studying Doxy venom for its apparent inhibition of the zinc-binding sites of matrix metalloproteinases, which as you know are important for tissue remodeling. The results so far have been optimistic, but it is still too early in the trials to recommend a dose of Doxy venom in conjunction with the Wolfsbane potion regimen_…

Althea placed the letter on her desk and rubbed her temples. "You're a brilliant man, Professor Kafka, but it takes me at least a month to decipher your letter," she murmured, opening her eyes wide to fight off sleep.

_Thankfully, I have Remus to ask_, she thought, eyeing the thick letter. _However, I do believe I'll have to spend the majority of my summer holiday in the library or maneuvering through large piles of books. Bloody hell, my office is such a mess_, she thought as she looked at the large stacks of journals, books, and student papers on her desk, floor, and sofa. How she anticipated summer holiday—to be able to leave Hogwarts and to travel—wherever she wanted—without the prospect of marking essays. Afina had invited her to spend the first part of her holiday in New York and Althea gladly accepted the invitation. She enjoyed the idea of a new wardrobe and meeting Afina's art and fashion friends.

"I hate final exams," she said, narrowing her eyes at the third-year exams. "I have no room for myself."

_I'll make room_, she thought sifting through her post. _Bills, bills—no I don't want to renew a subscription to _Witch Weekly_! I never had a subscription! Wonderful, an invitation to The Harringtons' Summer Solstice Celebration. What a laugh! John marrying an American witch—I suppose it was a nasty shock when she told him. Gran loves to remind me it could have been me and I tell her it still could be. He won't ever leave me alone at these gatherings—obviously, his marriage means nothing to him, the toad. Speaking of Gran, this envelope is enormous_, she thought, taking the envelope from Gran into her hands.

"Maybe it's her will," she remarked, begrudgingly opening the envelope. "I can only hope."

Two small envelopes slipped out of the large envelope and fell onto her desk. Picking up the first envelope, she gasped as she looked at the return address.

"'Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?'" she breathed, as she gazed in astonishment at the neatly scrolled address.

_What does Petunia have to write to me_, she thought, cautiously opening the envelope. _She hasn't written or spoken to me in over fourteen years—not one letter, not one response into my inquiries about Harry…. She married that awful Dursley and forgot all about us…but I do understand. It was a matter of self-preservation_. Althea opened the envelope, allowing the letter to slip out onto her desk. Unfolding the letter, she read Petunia's cold, forced greeting and inquiries into her health. _She probably wants to dump Harry on me_, she thought as she read the first sentence.

_…It has come to my attention that Sirius Black has escaped your prison. Since his initial escape, I have heard nothing in the news. Is he captured? I'm frightened that he would break into my home, looking for that boy, when he is in fact, at your so-called school_….

"As if Sirius knows where your home is," she commented and sighed. "You never invited any of us to your home for fear of dirtying your furniture. As if I wanted to come to your home—you following us round with a damp cloth, wiping everything we touched."

_…The thought of that evil man bursting into my home has led me to insist Vernon put more locks on our doors_…

Althea laughed. "Like a bloody lock could keep out Sirius. He ruined all the locks at Northfield," she remarked and continued to read the letter.

_…The purpose of this letter is the agreement that you look after that boy until Black is captured. I believe if we agree, that Dumbledore would have to agree_...

Althea threw the letter onto her desk. She looked with disgust at the repulsive letter. _If I could have taken Harry, I would have, and you—you offensive hag—would not have him_, she thought and covered her face with her hands. _It was to protect Harry, and I was in no state to raise him_. The feeling of worthlessness and guilt crept into her chest once more. What would Lily think of her best friend? Would she think her despicable? A coward?

"I should show Remus the letter on Doxy venom," she murmured and lifted her face from her hands. "I'll write to her later."

Althea stood, took Professor Kafka's letter, and proceeded toward Remus's office. _I believe he'll be just as surprised to hear Petunia has written me_, she thought as she walked the long corridor that led to his office. _I'd expect to hear from Sirius himself before I'd hear from her_. Stopping at his office door, Althea frowned at the strange sounds emanating from the other side. _What is Remus doing in there? Is that…growling_?

Althea knocked on the door and waited for Remus's reply.

"What?" he shouted and Althea heard a stack of papers fall to the ground. "Damn it! Come in!"

Althea cautiously opened the door and slipped into his office. "Is everything all right?" she asked and looked to Remus, sitting at his desk—his face in his hands. "I suppose not."

Remus lifted his face and scratched his chin. "No, no, everything is all right," he replied and motioned Althea to sit. However, his chairs were covered with stacks of papers and she decided to stand at the edge of his desk.

"You don't look so well—a bit peaky," she replied, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"How am I supposed to look? The full moon is tomorrow," he said and covered his face with his hands. "I—I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. I have a massive headache."

Althea stood behind him and began to massage his shoulders. "Have you had your potion today?"

"Yes," he murmured, pointing toward the smoking goblet.

Althea massaged a particularly tense spot in his neck. "Would you like some more? I'll ask Snape for it and bring it to you," she replied softly and Remus shook his head. "Are you sure?"

"I think _I_ know when _I_ need more Wolfsbane."

"Of course," she sighed.

Remus dropped his head. "God, that feels fantastic," he murmured thickly, "thank you."

"You're welcome," she whispered, kneading her thumbs deeper into his shoulder.

Remus sighed. "Just what I needed," he said with a small smile. "I shouldn't refuse this so much, should I?"

Her fingers began to tire, but Remus—having enough—took her hands from his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I've learnt my lesson, Professor."

Althea frowned at his uncharacteristic gesture. "What has gotten into you?" she laughed nervously, attempting to straighten, but Remus tightened his grip on her arms.

"Nothing," he replied, resting his head on her arm. "Can't I sit here with my favorite Muggle Studies professor?" he added and sighed once more. "Anyway, what brings _you_ here?"

"Doxies."

"Doxies," he laughed, stroking her arm. "You're very capable of handling them yourself. Why would you need my help?"

"I don't have Doxies—you'd hear me scream if I had Doxies. No, I received a letter from Professor Kafka," she explained, succumbing and resting her head against his. "He might have discovered a treatment other than Wolfsbane."

"With Doxies?" he asked and Althea murmured yes. "Nasty stuff, but so is Wolfsbane. Why can't the treatment be a nice cup of tea?"

"It would be chamomile and you despise chamomile," she whispered and felt him chuckle against her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm wonderful," he replied, stroking her forearms.

"I thought you had a massive headache?"

"I do," he replied, closing his eyes, "but I've recovered, somewhat."

"Good."

"I like when you wear that perfume."

A nervous flutter filled her stomach. "It's the perfume I always wear," she replied—her throat slightly dry. "I've worn it for over twenty years."

"I know," he sighed and adjusted his grip on her arms. "It's…comforting."

Althea raised her eyebrows slightly. "Oh."

Remus cleared his throat and continued, "After exams, I want to take you out to dinner."

"Dinner?" she repeated quietly and Remus murmured yes. "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing and don't say no because I'll be offended."

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "Fine then. Where will we go?" she asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.

_What is Remus thinking? He can't afford it_, she thought as Remus visibly deliberated on dinner options.

"I think you should decide," he explained and smiled, "otherwise, you'd have to eat cold Chinese take-away."

The muscles in Althea's back tightened—the dull ache of pain traveling down her legs. "You know, my back is sore in this position. You're going to have to let me go."

"I'm sorry," he replied and reluctantly released her. "Here," he continued and cleared off a spot on his desk, "sit here."

Althea sat on the edge of his desk. "I remember that Chinese take-away," she replied and wrinkled her nose. "It was at least three weeks old."

Remus pinched her nose. "It wasn't three weeks old. It was three _days_ old and I remember you happily ate it in my kitchen."

"It tasted like it was three weeks old," she muttered and playfully kicked Remus' shin. "Anyway, maybe I want you to cook."

"Oh Althea, my cooking is horrible, you know that," he replied, shaking his head.

Althea leaned forward and grinned. "Would you like me to cook then?" she asked brightly and quickly raised and lowered her eyebrows. "I'd make your favorites."

"I'd rather have someone cook for you," he answered and placed his hand on her knee, causing Althea to sit upright. "You don't have to decide now."

"Right," she replied—her voice slightly higher than usual—she quickly coughed to correct it. "Anyway," she continued, retrieving Professor Kafka's letter from her robe pocket, "here is the letter. Professor Kafka's letter, I mean."

"Oh right, thanks," he replied and took the letter into his hands. "Awfully thick," he remarked, waving the many pages with his right hand as his left hand massaged her knee.

Althea—her eyes wide—stood from his desk.

Remus frowned. "Leaving so soon?"

Althea nodded. "I should return to my office. I have so many exams to mark."

Remus faintly sneered. "That can wait, can't it?" he said, taking her hand in his. "It's such a beautiful afternoon," he continued, his eyes focused upon her palm as his thumb traced its lines. "I thought we could take a walk by the lake."

"Oh," she murmured and licked her bottom lip. "I thought you'd want to read the letter straight away. It's very thick," she added and felt her cheeks flush, "but if you want to—"

"Right," he sighed. Remus opened his mouth as if to speak, paused, and frowned thoughtfully before he continued, "Althea, you wouldn't mind stopping by my quarters tonight? I mean…to pick up this letter?"

The small fluttering in Althea's stomach returned. "I—I believe so," she answered—slightly flustered—looking toward the wall.

Remus affectionately squeezed her hand and Althea returned her gaze to him. "Fantastic," he replied and winked. "I want some time to understand this letter. It's Kafka, after all."

"What time—seven or eight?" she asked and gently bit her bottom lip.

"No…" he replied slowly, "ten."

"Ten?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he replied with a small smile and Althea felt the flush travel to her chest as his lips grazed her fingers. "I'll see you at ten?"

Remus's lips lingered upon her fingers and Althea took a sharp intake of breath. "At ten," she managed to say, retracting her hand from him.

Remus's smile broadened. "I look forward to it, then," he replied and tugged at her sleeve.

"So do I," she replied with a nervous smile.

Althea quickly left Remus's office, and as she closed the door, she raised her eyebrows in confusion. _What happened to him_, she thought, her hand still resting on the doorknob. _Meet him in his quarters at ten? Kissing my hand? He couldn't be…could he_?

"It's about bloody time," she smirked.

* * *

_He's probably drunk_, she thought—her fingertips lightly touching the door to Remus's quarters. _The way he would look at me and then take a long sip of wine at dinner…he's probably unconscious on his bed_. She felt a nervous twinge in her stomach she hadn't felt for years. _I can't believe I'm going through with this_. Althea's fingertips traced small circles against the door—her fingertips recognizing the roughness of the wood grain. _What am I thinking? I want this…but do I look all right_? She tugged and smoothed at the sheer, delicate fabric of the nightgown underneath her dressing gown. _Never mind that, I need to knock on the bloody door_.

Just as Althea raised her hand to knock on the door, the door opened, catching her off guard.

"Oh, Althea, you're here," Remus said and took a deep breath. "Come in."

Althea entered Remus's quarters and stood close to the door. Her eyes quickly scanned the room and noticed nothing was different. Costello's _This Year's Model_ was silent upon the phonograph and papers and books were in piles upon the floor. She frowned faintly. _Not very romantic, is it_?

"Have you read the letter?" she asked, clasping her hands in front of her and twisting her fingers.

"Yes, of course I have," he replied—his speech shallow. "Please, don't stand," he continued, gently taking hold of her arms, "please sit."

Remus led her to his bed where she sat next to him. _This is so odd_, she thought as Remus dryly cleared his throat. _I thought this would be more—I don't know_, she thought, looking about the messy room. _Although, the last time, it was in an abandoned teacher's study, so this is an improvement. There is a bed and not a sofa_. She folded her hands in her lap and kicked her heel against the floor. _Right, something needs to be done to break this awkwardness_, she thought as Remus stood and briskly walked across his quarters to a table. Opening a compartment underneath the table, he stooped to pick up a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. As he placed the first wine glass on the table, the second glass slipped from his hands and he awkwardly caught it between two fingers by the stem.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, pouring the scarlet liquid into the first glass.

"Oh, just a little," she answered, measuring out her desired amount with her index finger and thumb.

She smiled nervously as she took the glass from him. She held the rim of the glass to her lips and watched Remus quickly down his entire glass.

"Would you like some more?" she teased and took a sip of wine.

Remus frowned slightly. "I've had enough, I think," he replied and placed his glass on the nightstand.

Althea finished her glass and placed it on the nightstand as well. "There," she said, sitting next to him.

_Oh, this is so bloody unromantic_, she thought, the disappointment slowly washing over her insides. _I suppose he hasn't had that much experience…I wonder how much experience he's had_? Althea raised an eyebrow at him, and Remus looked at her quizzically. _He never talks about those sorts of things, so I really don't know_, she thought and frowned thoughtfully. _I believe he has though…I hope_.

"What did you think of the letter?" she asked to break the silence.

"The letter," he muttered, absentmindedly rubbing his face. "I read it, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, well any thoughts on what Professor Kafka wrote?" she asked, crossing her legs.

Her scarlet-colored dressing gown slipped, exposing her legs, and she quickly covered them. She noticed Remus with haste, tightly shut his eyes and open them again.

"Is everything all right?"

Remus nodded with great exaggeration—the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening. "I'm fine, really. Tired, but fine. The full moon is tomorrow, you know."

"Yes, of course," she replied and gently bit her bottom lip. "You seem so tense though. Here, turn round and I'll massage your shoulders for you," she added, moving closer.

"No, no, that's not necessary," he replied, holding up his hands.

Althea returned to her former position. "Right," she murmured, frowning.

_I've had enough of this_, she thought, folding her arms.

"I think I'll go," she continued and stood. She turned toward Remus. "You can tell me tomorrow what you think of the letter."

Remus's nervous expression faded. "Wait," he said, motioning her to sit again, "I have to tell you something."

Althea sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance as she sat down. "What?"

Remus cleared his throat before he began, "I wanted to tell you that I've thought about your offer. I would like to spend the summer holiday with you."

"Summer holiday?" she repeated, her lips slowly upturning into a smile. "I thought it would be too much of a hassle."

Remus shook his head. "I've already started the process and final approval is to arrive tomorrow," he explained, grinning. "Surprise."

Althea felt a sudden surge of excitement and happiness at the prospect of spending the entire summer holiday with Remus. She gently bit her bottom lip at the thought of Remus's lips against her bare back as she sunned herself upon the beach.

"Surprise, indeed," she replied happily, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Remus, this is so fantastic!"

"I thought it would," he murmured, slowly rubbing her back.

Slightly pulling away from him, she frowned. "Oh, but I already promised Afina I'd visit her before I went to Bermuda," she replied and pouted. "Would you like to travel to New York first? It wouldn't be too much of a hassle, would it? If so, I could—"

"I would enjoy that, actually," he said, pushing her pouting lip up with his thumb. "She's written me a few times asking for me to visit."

"Fantastic, but what brought about this change?" she asked, playing with the back of his collar.

"Well…" he began slowly, gliding his fingertips up and down her sides, "why spend a holiday alone? I'd be very jealous reading your letters about your holiday in Bermuda while I'm here."

"You, jealous?"

"I would be," he whispered, leaning exceptionally close to her. "You in the sun…and on the beach…and in the ocean," he added, his hot breath warming her ear.

Althea's neck tingled. She closed her eyes. "Stop being awful," she teased.

She felt his lips upon her jaw. "I am on my best behavior."

Althea giggled lowly as Remus's lips tickled her neck. She eased her dressing gown open, allowing the silk garment to fall from her shoulders—the cool air against her skin extinguished by Remus's warm hands. Suddenly, Remus pulled away.

"What?" she whispered, smoothing the hair from his face.

Remus chewed his bottom lip as he considered Althea. "I'm sorry," he said quietly and placed Althea's hands in her lap.

Althea frowned. "Remus—"

Remus lifted Althea's dressing gown over her shoulders. "You—you should go," he said and nodded quickly. "It would be best."

Althea felt her neck and chest grow hot with embarrassment. How could she have let herself think that Remus could regard her with more than brotherly affection? She narrowed her eyes. _You haven't kissed me since we were fifteen_.

"Your hand was on my tit," she said as Remus—his expression strained—massaged his temple…he refused to look at her. She sighed loudly. "Right," she said and stood.

Remus, his eyes downcast, remained quiet.

"What do you want of me?" she asked as she stood before him.

She closed her eyes briefly—she might as well. They were friends and colleagues with a connection that teased upon edge of the sexual. For years they had played this game of one wanting the other and the other ready to reject. The frustration in itself was the aphrodisiac. _Almost twelve years_, she thought.

Remus picked at his thumbnail.

"What do you want?"

Remus tightly shut his mouth.

Althea felt a boldness in her chest as she sighed, "I want you."

The quiet demeanor of Remus faltered—he looked confused as if he did not know to feel pleasure or panic at those words.

"I know you've felt the same. You feel it now, don't you?"

His look begging, he said, "Althea—"

"Don't," she protested, holding up her hand. Remus went to speak, but Althea blurted, "I love you."

Remus' shoulders rolled forward and he covered his face with his hand. "God, Althea—"

"Don't you remember? Christmas 1982?" she said and Remus refused to remove his hand or to acknowledge that memory. "You spoke the same to me, but I was so obsessed with Oswin…" she continued and shook her head.

"Please—"

"I regret lying to you."

Remus lowered his hand, revealing a pale pink to his cheeks.

She returned to the bed and took his faintly sweaty hands into hers. "You've always been there for me, Remus," she said, lifting their clasped hands to her breast. "For Prudence—"

Remus attempted coax his hands from her. "I held you back—"

Althea disregarded his interruption and persisted, "In Alexandria—"

"No—"

"When Derrick left after I told him what I was, what we are," she said, and furrowed her brow. "You've—I love you," she said and steadfastly gazed into his pale eyes.

"We're not fifteen," he replied and swallowed. "There would be a massive scandal if it were discovered—"

"You've been my best friend for how long?" she interrupted, letting go of his hands. "I would be ostracized by association regardless," she added, leaning forward—Remus's eyes quickly darted up to her forehead. "And good Lord, if they haven't figured it out by Snape's thinly veiled innuendo in the staffroom or any of the other chances he's had—"

"You'd lose your chance at Prudence."

Althea paused and sat upright.

"I couldn't," he said, lowering his head, "I _won't_ take that away from you."

"Her father escaped from Azkaban," she reminded and felt uneasy at her words—as if speaking his name would have him return to Hogwarts, "and as have I, or have you forgotten?"

Remus shook his head. "You've never understood—"

Althea let out a growl of frustration. "Stop saying that it's because you're a werewolf—"

Remus gulped.

"—and truly say it's because of the mess I am!" she finished, slapping her hand upon her thigh. "You can't be with someone like _me_."

"That isn't true," he murmured weakly. "God, it isn't true—"

"Then what—"

Remus grabbed Althea by the shoulders—she gasped. "I want you," he said and closed his eyes, she felt his fingers knead into her shoulders. "It's complicated—"

"Apparently," she breathed.

He faintly licked his lips. "Every full moon I taste you."

Althea swallowed. Her mind flashed to their first meeting in Alexandria. She, having pinned Remus beneath her, had smeared her blood from a fresh cut upon her hand across his tightly sealed lips. She had taunted him to taste her. He had never looked so horrified.

"I didn't want to—I tried—but just a few drops—"

"I'm so sorry," she whispered and attempted to back away, but Remus's grip tightened.

"It repulsed me," he said and opened his eyes, "but it was exhilarating—"

It was Althea's turn to express mild horror. "Exhilarating?"

"Yes," he nodded, his look one of anguish. "You remember your last. It's what drives—"

"Goodnight, Professor Lupin," she said, pushing herself away from him.

Professor Lupin? Those words seemed so odd to her. He was her Remus—her friend for over twenty years. Remus made a weak attempt to retrieve her.

Althea rested her head against the back of his door as she closed it. _What have I done_, she thought as she gently hit the back of her head against the door. _All these years…once a werewolf has tasted blood_… She looked up to the stone vaulted ceiling. _I've ruined him_.

Suddenly, Althea heard what sounded like a glass being thrown across his quarters and smashing into the door with Remus shouting expletives. Althea lowered her head. _I can't leave him_. Slowly opening the door, she peered in, seeing Remus—sitting and with his face in his hands—the broken glass lying in a pile in front of her.

"Remus?" she asked as she stepped over the broken glass.

Remus stood from his bed and met her as she walked toward him. Before she could ask him if everything was all right, he cupped her face in his hands.

"You understand what this means?" he whispered quickly, resting his forehead against hers. "You understand, don't you?"

Althea nodded against him.

She felt him relax against her. "I love you," he murmured and pressed his lips to hers.

Overcoming her shock, she slowly slipped her arms around his neck—her fingers grasping and releasing the back of his hair as she enjoyed the ferocity at which he kissed her. _Obviously, everything is all right_, she thought, smiling to herself as the tips of his fingers slid underneath the hem of her nightgown.

* * *

Althea sleepily lifted the bedclothes over her head as she turned over. _Oh, don't be morning already_, she thought, stretching her arm out in front of her. _Doesn't he sleep in_?

"You're going to have to get up eventually," she heard Remus say.

"Mmmhmm," she murmured, pulling the bedclothes tighter over her head. "Five more minutes."

"That's five less minutes you have to avoid the students."

"Fine," she sighed, pulling the bedclothes away from her face. "I suppose you want to be rid of me," she teased as she sat up.

"You know that's not true," he replied as he stood from his bathroom doorway. He grinned as he looked upon her. "I'll wake you in five minutes."

"No, it's not necessary," she replied, running her fingers through her hair. "How long have you been awake?" she asked, slipping her nightgown over her head.

Remus took the toothbrush from his mouth and spit into the sink. "Oh, about thirty minutes, I think," he replied, leaning against the doorframe. "I did wake you, but you thrust your hand into my face. 'Oh, Remus, again? I'm _exhausted_,'" he teased with large smile.

Althea laughed. "I never said that," she replied, playfully narrowing her eyes at him.

Remus winked.

"Sorry about that—thrusting my hand in your face," she said as she stood. "What time is it anyway?" she asked as she placed her left foot into her slipper.

"You have a half hour before breakfast," he replied and laughed as Althea gasped.

She stumbled, but caught herself as she placed her right foot into her slipper. "Thirty minutes! I need an hour at least!" she exclaimed—her eyes widening. "Stop laughing! I'll be late and everyone will know!"

Remus shook his head as he smiled. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," he replied, taking her hand in his. "No one will know about us."

He held her fingers to his lips and, for a moment, considered her thumb. Althea held her breath.

"I promise," he finished and kissed her thumb.

She bit her bottom lip as she remembered the night before. "I hope," she sighed. "You're up considerably early for the day of a full moon."

"I have the third-year exam first thing in this morning—"

"Oh no!" she lamented, pouting. "You'll miss the sixth-year's production of _The Crucible_. I thought the exam was in the afternoon."

"Damn," he murmured, pushing up her lower lip. "Well, I did see the dress rehearsal and they were wonderful. Only you'd think of a production of _The Crucible_."

"Of course," she said with a proud, small smile. "They're fantastic, too. They took their roles very seriously. I was very impressed. All of them will receive full marks."

"They'll be very pleased."

"Oh, before I forget, what time would you like me to check on you tonight?" she asked and tugged at his robes.

"I don't know," he answered, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "Probably eleven. I'd be settled by then, I think," he continued and tugged at a curl that fell upon her cheek.

"In your office or your quarters?" she asked, resting her hands against his chest.

"Quarters most likely, but it'll depend when Snape brings me the Wolfsbane," he replied and made a face.

"Just imagine tomorrow when you don't have to drink it and it'll be a Hogsmeade visit," she explained, smoothing out his collar. "All the students will be gone, leaving us professors alone," she added and winked.

"Oh…" he sighed slowly, pulling her closer to him, "I think I'll be too exhausted tomorrow. Maybe the day after."

Althea's expression transformed to humorous surprise. "So, is this something that will continue? You and me, I mean?" she asked with a slight smile.

"It would be very awkward if it didn't," he replied, resting his forehead against hers.

Althea's stomach leapt with excitement. _He's not ashamed—I'm not ashamed…he wanted this_, she thought, gently running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. _I wanted this_.

"But it must be kept with the utmost secrecy," he teased and winked.

"Of course, Professor Lupin," she replied with mock seriousness.

"Right," he laughed and kissed her lips. "I'll see you at breakfast," he continued and Althea kissed his lips once more. "You now have twenty-five minutes."


	63. Hogwarts, Evening, Early June 1994

**Hogwarts, Evening, Early June 1994**

Althea woke with a start—a fourth year exam stuck to her face as she sat up. Pulling the exam from her face, she stretched her tired legs out in front of her. _I thought I could finish them today_, she thought, darkly eyeing the large stack of exams still ungraded. _Obviously, I was severely mistaken. Damn, I thought Remus and I could have the weekend_. Yawning, she arched her back—feeling each of her vertebrae pop. _What a beautiful night_, she thought as she looked out her window. _Night? Night_!

"What time is it?" she asked aloud, frantically searching for her clock on her messy desk. Shuffling through her papers—knocking many of them to the floor—she found her clock. "Ten fifty-nine!" she exclaimed and reread the time.

Knocking her chair over as she stood, she hurriedly left her office and ran the many flights of stairs that led to Remus's quarters. Panting, she stood at his door, attempting to catch her breath. _He's probably used all of his locks_, she thought, taking her wand from her robe pocket. Tapping her wand against the door, she expected to hear the _click_ and _clink_ of locks unlocking, but she heard nothing.

"Remus?" she said loudly, tightening her grip on her wand. "Remus!"

_It doesn't even sound like he's in there_, she thought, resting her ear to the door. Wand first, she slowly opened the door. _He's taken his potion all week—he should be a harmless wolf…we've done this before_. Quickly closing the door behind her, she transformed and searched his quarters. _He did say his quarters…didn't he? I asked him again after dinner and he did say quarters_, she thought as she hopped along underneath his bed. _Bloody hell, Remus, this isn't very good_, she continued and transformed back into her human form.

"I suppose you're in your office," she said, taking one last look at his quarters, which looked as though he had never returned after dinner.

After quickly closing and locking the door behind her, Althea—in a slight panic—ran at full speed the many flights of stairs to his office. Reaching the corridor to his office, her heart sank and the blood rushed from her face—his door was open, the light from his office pouring into the darkened corridor. _Oh, Remus, no_, she thought as she transformed and flew into his office. _You need to be here. Where are you_?

Transforming back, her body started to shake as she saw the smoking goblet still full of Wolfsbane Potion. _He hasn't had it tonight_, she thought, peering into the goblet. _He would never leave without taking it, no matter how awful—hey, what's this_? Althea looked closely into the bottom of the goblet and saw a clump of white crystals.

"Sugar," she said through clenched teeth.

_Of all the awful things! If Remus doesn't tear him apart I will_, she thought angrily as she caught sight of the opened Marauder's Map on his desk. _I'll find where Remus is this way and alert Dumbledore. Come on map, where's Remus_? However, no matter how much she searched, she could not find Remus on the map.

"He's not in the castle and he's not on the grounds," she murmured, searching the map for any room she missed. "I have to alert Dumbledore. We need to find him."

_Now, how do I make Hogwarts disappear_, she thought, not wanting any student to walk in his office and take the confiscated map, realizing what it was. Frowning, she touched her wand to the map and hoped the lines would disappear. Unfortunately, nothing happened. _Maybe if I ask it_, she thought, watching the dot of Prudence walking in her dormitory. Althea blinked. Prudence Black. _How is that possible_, she wondered, resting her hands upon the table. _I didn't_—

"How do I—Sirius!" she gasped, looking at the map in horror.

She watched as the five dots entered the castle and Madam Pomfrey took Harry, Hermione, and Ron away toward the hospital wing. _Oh God, Sirius has hurt them_, she thought, covering her mouth as she stepped back from the map. Althea's mind began to concoct wild stories of how Sirius had hurt the children and of how he might have killed Remus, for the dead do not appear on the map. _Snape, don't take this from me_, she thought, leaving Remus's office. _Let me kill him myself_! Ignoring the dull ache in her lungs, she continued to run toward the pair, and thought of all the ways she could murder Sirius. _He'll wish for a dementor to suck out his soul_, she thought as she spotted Snape standing next to Sirius, who was bound and gagged on a stretcher. Breathing heavily, her wand pointed and ready, she approached Snape and Sirius. She could do it. She could kill him.

"Looks like you came to pay your last respects to Black," Snape sneered—his own wand still pointed toward Sirius.

"What happened? What is he doing here?" she asked quickly, nodding with her head to Sirius.

"Came to kill off Potter," Snape began, his lips curving into an awful smile, "with the help of Lupin as well, and I wouldn't doubt you had something to do with it also."

Althea slapped Snape as hard as she could. "How dare you think we had anything to do with this?" she shouted and furiously slapped him again.

_Oh, did that feel fantastic_, she thought as Snape staggered backward.

"It seems once again, you've been duped by a handsome face, Morrigan," he replied heatedly, cupping the side of his face.

Althea shook with rage. "Remus had _nothing_ to do with this!" she replied—her voice wavering from her anger. "Now, step aside and let me kill this son of a bitch!"

"I won't let you have that satisfaction," he snapped.

Immediately, she brandished her wand in a fierce slashing motion, she hurtled Snape across the corridor. She inhaled with satisfaction as he somersaulted through the air, and with a dull _thud_, he landed against the wall and slid to the floor.

"Stay there! _Impedimenta_!" she shouted, pointing her wand at Snape.

Althea walked toward the stretcher bearing Sirius. This was the closest she had been to him since the night in her quarters. She could do it, she had to do it—she had to kill him. She looked upon Sirius with intense repulsion—he had killed Lily, James, Peter, most likely Remus, and almost killed Harry and his friends. _Why would you want us dead_, she thought as her trembling fingertips touched the side of his face. His skin was still soft, but stretched grotesquely over his skull, looking as though he had died years ago. His hair, matted and dirty, hung to his elbows and off the stretcher. His eyes, sunken and dark, were still encircled by the same thick black lashes. His left eye was swollen and dried blood was caked around his nostril. No magically reinforced iron bars or dementors could prevent her from what she had ached to do almost ten years ago. She tapped the gag with her wand, it disappearing from his mouth. _I want to hear you scream and plead before I kill you_, she thought, holding her wand to his temple.

Suddenly, Sirius grabbed her hand, causing Althea to jolt backward—his bony fingers painfully gripping her hand. Slowly, he opened his eyes and Althea took in a shaky breath.

"Althea?" he croaked—his voice barely audible.

Althea did not nod or shake her head. She remained motionless, transfixed upon his eyes.

"I—I'm dead, aren't I?" he continued and Althea did not answer. "Althea, I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…" he repeated quietly—his eyes bright with tears.

_Tears? What sort of sick game is this_, she thought as she stroked the side of his face. _Do it now, Althea! Kill him_!

"I—I didn't mean for any of this. Please tell me you know…that you understand," he begged, a few tears trickling from the corners of his eyes.

Althea looked upon Sirius and smiled sweetly. "I do," she whispered.

Sirius took a deep breath—his face softening.

"You're going to hell," she said quietly, pointing her wand at his heart. "_Ava_—"

"Enough!" Dumbledore shouted and Althea's wand flew from her hand—her own body flying into the air and tumbling into the wall next to Snape.

Althea winced as her back contacted the cold stone wall. She opened her eyes to see Dumbledore at Sirius' side—his wand pointed at him. _Damn it_, she thought as she grasped her wand. Althea pushed off the floor and wobbled to her feet. The curse had worn off Snape and he stood as well.

"So weak," Snape muttered as he brushed off his robes.

"Shut it."

"I dare say I shall enjoy this public display of affection—"

Althea raised her wand. "I won't let you have the satisfaction."

Snape eyed her wand. "Still protecting him after all these years?"

"_Althea_," Dumbledore warned.

Snape's beady eyes widened slightly as he nodded toward the Headmaster.

"Right," she sighed, dropping her arm.

"Severus, come with me," Dumbledore said sternly as he tapped his wand on the stretcher.

"Headmaster, sir, " Althea said as she pocketed her wand.

"I'll see to it that he receives justice, Althea—"

No—"

"No?" Snape and Dumbledore said in unison.

"Remus," she said, "he's neither in his quarters nor his office."

"He's out, no doubt, roaming the Hogwarts grounds," Snape said, tightly gripping his wand. "Endangering us all."

"Because of you," she whispered so as Snape to hear.

"Probably made his escape once Black was captured—"

"Remus would never!" she growled.

"I agree with Althea, Severus," Dumbledore said, resting his hand upon the stretcher. "Remus had nothing to do with Black's entry into Hogwarts."

Snape was thin-lipped.

"And neither did Althea," Dumbledore continued.

Sirius stirred.

"I think it best you go, Professor," he said, looking over his half-moon glasses at Althea.

Althea looked to Sirius and gulped. Sirius would receive the Kiss. Althea hesitated. _I should stay with him_, she thought, adjusting her grip upon her wand. _I could do it. I could kill him. I won't let them take his soul_.

"His soul will remain intact, I promise you."

Althea nodded slowly as she watched Sirius's thin chest rise and fall. "I'll look for Remus."

"Very well, I trust you'll be careful," Dumbledore replied and tapped the stretcher once more, allowing it to move. "To Flitwick's office, Snape."

Sirius, flanked by Snape and Dumbledore, slowly glided down the corridor. Althea inhaled a ragged breath and placed her hand over her abdomen. _He told me that he was sorry_, she thought as the trio disappeared. _He cried for me_. She furrowed her eyebrows, remembering Sirius's mutterings and rages in Azkaban. He wept for her then, too. Althea quickly shook her head.

"I have to find Remus," she muttered.

Althea hurried along the corridor that led to the school grounds. She needed to find Remus quickly before he'd injure anyone or himself. She needed to think of a plan to lure him into a safe area, but first she would have to think of a safe area. Stepping out onto the school grounds, she spotted the Whomping Willow. _The Shrieking Shack_, she thought, still looking at the Whomping Willow, _but how will I lure him there_?

"Me," she murmured and took a deep breath.

A cool breeze caught Althea's hair as she waited in the center of the grounds. _This is not working_, she thought, smoothing the hair away from her face. She gulped at what she had to do. She knew what would draw him out. Using her wand, she cut gash into her forearm and waited. _Oh, this is awful_, she thought, watching the blood trickle from the wound onto her hand.

"Come out, Remus, I'm bleeding and I'm human," she whispered, rising and falling on the balls of her feet. "You know you want to eat me."

A snap of a twig and a low growl told Althea her revision to the plan had worked. _No time to see where he is_, she thought, hastily healing her arm, _just run_! Althea started for the Whomping Willow—hearing Remus running after her—and transformed, which allowed her to fly through the branches and land on the knot that stopped the branches from violently swaying. _Right_, she thought as the branches stopped, _now to get him into this damn tunnel_. Althea flew low to the rocky ground because she could not remember the height of the tunnel. _It would be bloody fantastic if I flew straight into a root_, she thought as she spotted a small beam of dim light. _However, Remus trampling me is the least of my worries_. Flying into the light, she found herself inside the Shrieking Shack. She flew down the hallway and up the staircase to Remus's old room. _It looks as though someone has been in here recently_, she thought, perching on one of the bedposts. _Who could have found this place? Come on, Remus, come up so I can lock you in here_.

Watching the door, Althea saw the shadow of Remus grow larger and larger as he climbed the creaking staircase. _Good, come on…come on_, she thought as Remus slowly came into the room. As soon as Remus came to the center of the room, Althea swooped down and out of the room. After transforming at the bottom of the staircase, she turned to see Remus leaping toward the doorway. Raising her wand in a grand flourish, she slammed the door shut and locked it—reinforcing it with multiple locking charms.

She cringed as she heard Remus hit the door with a loud _bang_.

"I'll heal that in the morning," she murmured, sitting on a dusty couch.

Coughing, she curled her knees to her chest and watched the door. Remus was at the door, pacing back and forth and growling a low, guttural growl. _Snape, you are such a bastard_, she thought as Remus continued to claw and to growl at the door. _Sugar in the Wolfsbane Potion—he must have given it to him all week_.

"Why would he—" she began and growled.

_Of course, Remus wouldn't look at it before he drank it—it's awful_, she thought and was jolted out of her thoughts as it sounded as if Remus was wrestling with something large in the bedroom. Suddenly, she heard a crash and he yelped, and Althea sat up, but she caught herself before leaving the couch. _You can heal him in the morning_, she reminded, curling her knees to her chest. _This had to have been awful for him; he wasn't expecting to transform so violently. He had no one, no one—damn it, Althea, how were you to know? You could have been killed if he had been in his quarters or his office_!

"Snape, I will relish every word as I tell it to Dumbledore," she said and winced as Remus yelped. "Please, please don't bite yourself," she murmured, resting her forehead on her knees.

_That is how he knew about Remus_, she thought, covering her ears as Remus yelped again. _Remus must have been looking at the map and saw Sirius just as Snape had arrived with the potion. So, he stopped Sirius from killing Harry and his friends, but now Snape will take all the glory. He probably transformed when he was battling Sirius and no one would believe a werewolf's story over Snape's. Ugh, who'd want to believe that bastard over Remus_, she thought, lifting her head—Remus had quieted.

"He must have transformed before Remus could tear out his throat," she said, and thrust her fist as hard as she could into a ripped cushion of the couch. "Such a coward!"

_Oh, but he's gotten his_, she thought, coughing from the plume of dust. _If only I had been able to kill him! God, I—I never wanted his soul sucked from him…not even James would've wanted that. Why would Dumbledore stop me? He knew what awaited Sirius when captured…. Unless he's planning on reforming him as he did Snape, as he did me_, she thought as her stomach felt as if it had turned itself inside out. _No, no, that's ridiculous. No, Sirius killed Lily and James, Peter, those Muggles, and he tried to kill Harry, his friends, and no doubt Remus and Snape tonight_.

"Maybe Dumbledore is waiting for us to return," she said, looking toward the boarded up window.

Still, Althea could not wait until the morning. After twelve, almost thirteen years, she still felt a minute sense of loyalty to him. She loathed to admit it, but she and Sirius would always be connected, through their past and through Prudence. One day, Prudence might discover the circumstances of her birth and to learn that her father was not only a murderer, but also a soulless corpse clinging to life, which would be too much to bear. Despite knowing what she had done and what she had tried to do to him from her cell, Sirius had helped her in Azkaban to avoid the Kiss and taught her to survive. Althea cringed as she heard Remus scratch at the floor. He was safe and locked away with no chance of escape.

"Flitwick's office," she murmured and stood.

As Althea flew into the night sky toward the windows of Flitwick's office, she thought it odd that Dumbledore would not have chosen his office to take Sirius. Was Flitwick's office secure? Althea spotted the warm glow from Professor Flitwick's windows and landed upon the small stone ledge. She peered inside to see Sirius, sitting upon the chair with his head in his hands, and Dumbledore—his expression grim—standing before him with his arms folded. Sirius lifted his head, his look one of anguish, as he frantically described something to Dumbledore. Althea hopped closer, but she could not read his lips. Dumbledore placed his hand upon Sirius' shaking shoulder, but Sirius batted it away as he stood. He rubbed the side of his bruised face and Althea thought she read, 'Peter,' 'the best of me,' and 'again.' What did he mean? This method of discovery was ineffective—she had to return to the castle proper and Flitwick's office. Sirius rested his hands upon the window ledge—the curtain of black, matted hair obscured his gaunt face except for his glistening grey eyes that had found Althea's form. He furrowed his eyebrows as he considered her and raised his forefinger to the glass. Althea, realizing the futility at snapping at his protected finger, pretended to peck at the stone. Sirius sighed and pushed himself off from the window ledge.

Althea left the window ledge and swooped down toward the castle entrance. She flew through the dim corridors and up the staircases and turns toward the West Tower. _Don't be a coward, Morrigan_, she thought as she neared Flitwick's door. Althea transformed as Dumbledore closed the door to Flitwick's office.

"Headmaster—"

"I dare say, if you've come to kill him," Dumbledore said quietly as he met her, "you would very much regret it."

"He'll receive the Kiss," she said, pointing toward the door. "I can't—none of us would've—"

"Sirius must explain everything to you," he interrupted his voice had some urgency, "but this isn't the time—"

"'Isn't the time'?" she questioned with a bitter laugh. "He's about to have his soul sucked from him!"

"Return to Remus immediately—"

"No!" she said and stomped her foot upon the ground. "I don't care!" she said, rushing forward. "This is the bloody time!"

Suddenly, she felt a rope around her neck that jerked her backward. She frantically clawed at it as she struggled forward.

"Let me go!" she growled as she realized she had made no more than a step. "Please!" she begged, her hands dropping from the rope.

She felt the back of Dumbledore's wand pointed at her head. "I cannot have a Hogwarts professor implicated."

Althea frowned. Implicated in what?

"Return to Remus and tend to him," he said, his wand unwavering as it touched her scalp. "Do not hesitate in this task. It is imperative that you do so."


	64. Hogwarts, Morning, Early June 1994

**Hogwarts, Morning, Early June 1994**

At the first beam of sunlight through the cracks in the boarded window, Althea quietly walked the staircase and unlocked the door. Remus, already transformed, lay asleep upon the bed. _Oh, your poor arm_, she thought, mending the large cuts and bruises. _You must have fallen asleep gnawing your hand—I'll need to take you to Madam Pomfrey for that one…it needs an ointment, I think_. Careful not to wake him, she stood from the bed, gathered the tattered blankets, and placed them over him. Walking to the other side of the bed, she slowly climbed onto the bed, and reclined next to him—wrapping her arm around his thin waist. As she was about to close her eyes, she felt Remus start to wake.

"Just sleep," she whispered and kissed his shoulder.

Remus continued to shift, and groaning, he turned to face Althea. He slowly opened his eyes and sleepily looked at her.

"Just sleep," she repeated softly, smoothing the hair from his face.

"No," he yawned, stretching—his joints popping and cracking. "Sirius."

"Don't worry about him," she whispered, stroking the side of his face. "You need your sleep."

Remus blinked a few times, and suddenly his eyes opened wide and he sat to attention. "No!" he shouted and went to stand, but grimaced and fell back onto the bed. "We have to find him! He's innocent!"

Althea sat up and shook her head in disbelief at Remus. "You must have been dreaming," she said and soothingly stroked his forehead. "He's not innocent."

Agitated, Remus batted her hand away and sat up, facing her. Althea furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as Remus cupped his injured, bloodied hands around her face.

"Althea, you have to believe me on this," he began, looking solemnly into her eyes. "You know that I wouldn't lie to you, and that I love you," he continued, his rough thumb stroking her cheek. "Sirius is innocent."

"But—"

"He's _innocent_," he interrupted, his gaze unwavering.

Althea saw the earnest expression in his eyes and she started to shake. "No," she murmured. "You're wrong—"

"Last night, I learnt that Peter was the Secret Keeper—"

Althea let out a small gasp.

"—and that _he_ betrayed James and Lily—"

"_What_?"

"_He_ killed those Muggles—"

"_No_!" she shouted, violently shaking her head. "He lied to you! Peter's dead!"

Remus stopped her head from shaking. "He's _not_ dead," he said, stroking the side of her face. "I saw him—please don't interrupt—I saw him, in this very room—"

Althea remembered upon her arrival to the Shrieking Shack that the abandoned and dilapidated house looked recently disturbed. _It couldn't be true, could it_?

"This doesn't make any sense, Remus," she said—her throat tightening. "Start from the beginning."

"Last night, I was looking at the map—"

_Oh God_, she thought, remembering that it was left open upon his desk. Remus would not have been so careless as to leave something so potentially dangerous open upon his desk if something hadn't interrupted him. Her eyes widened. Despite the sugar in the Wolfsbane, Remus would not have forgotten to take it. He was always so careful. It must have been how Snape—

"—for I thought Harry and his friends would sneak out to see Buckbeak, and I was right," he continued and licked his lips, smoothing the hair off her shoulders. "As I spotted them, I'd noticed another dot had joined them, I didn't believe it myself, but the map never lies. Peter Pettigrew—"

Althea gasped. "Peter?"

Remus nodded.

Althea's eyes widened. "Peter is _alive_? How could that be? How—oh, Remus—"

Remus held up his hand to her lips for her to quiet. "Sirius saw Peter and took him here…to expose him," he said, his grip upon her trembling shoulders somewhat painful. "Immediately, when I saw Peter's name, I knew, and I followed them here," he continued and pointed to the bed, "to this very room." He closed his eyes and winced as he spoke, "Peter was their Secret Keeper."

"No!" she breathed, feeling the tears well in her eyes.

"Sirius told me of the switch last night," he explained, his look pleading. "We—we kept you ignorant of so much," he murmured, roughly stroking her shoulders. "From the intelligence we had, they wanted Sirius—and I thought it mad Sirius would offer himself for Secret Keeper—but it makes sense now. No one would go after Peter, and Sirius was to go into hiding with you, so he thought all was safe," he explained and took a deep breath, "but Peter was the spy, Althea. _He_ turned James and Lily over to Voldemort."

"My Sirius—"

"Is _innocent_," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so very sorry."

Althea began to shake violently. "Why didn't he tell me?" she asked, large tears streaming down her cheeks. She hiccoughed. "Things could have been different—"

Remus rested his forehead against hers. "They wouldn't have believed you, Althea. Remember we found your deposition in the dustbin," he reminded quietly, stroking the back of her head. "Peter set him up—set all of us up. He said that Sirius killed Lily and James just loud enough for the Muggles to hear, blew up the street behind him, and transformed into a rat—"

"Rat?"

"You didn't know his form was a rat?" he asked and Althea shook her head. "That is how he has survived these twelve years…as a rat. Waiting, no doubt, for the right time to hand over Harry—"

Althea's mind tuned out Remus's voice. _Peter_, she thought, shaking with rage. _I almost killed Sirius when it has been Peter all along_. It was Peter. Peter whom she wept for and whom she felt sorry for, as he was a poor dueler, but brave to face the mad Sirius. It was Peter, who she let into her home and let him touch her stomach when Prudence kicked. It was Peter, who betrayed Lily and James, and who wanted Harry dead. It was Peter, who killed those twelve Muggles. It was Peter, who betrayed Sirius and sent him to Azkaban. It was Peter, who took Sirius away from her, and in turn, took Prudence away from her. All that pain, all that hatred, everything that came after was directed at the man who loved her and sought to protect her. Her mind returned to that night when she heard Sirius call for her, to the laughing Death Eaters, and to the helplessness to protect her daughter from their torture. Althea let out a ferocious scream, which lurched her entire body forward. She collapsed upon the bed, her throat burning, and she heaved great sobs.

_I should have fought for him_, she thought and batted away Remus's hand. _I let him down. I was the one person that defended him after—that wouldn't believe he was capable of doing those horrible things…but everyone forced me to believe I was wrong…Gran, Remus, and Dumbledore. Forced me to believe he lied_! Althea screamed once more. What had she become? In reaction to his supposed betrayal, she had succumbed to the madness and hate to cope. In her loathsome state, she had thrived in evil and in revenge. The darkness she thought Sirius possessed and that she had strived to outdo was in her all along, alone. She deserved those twelve years and not Sirius.

"That ni—night when I—I heard S—Sirius, he was looking for—for me?" she sobbed and coughed as the thick mucus slid down her throat. "To warn me—to tell me everything?"

Remus held her tightly to him. "I'm so sorry, Althea, that I ever doubted you," he whispered and kissed her wet cheek. "I'm so sorry."

Frantically, Althea pushed Remus away from her. "He was taken back to Hogwarts! Dumbledore spoke with him! Remus—Remus, the Kiss!"

_Oh God, I should have killed him! To save him from the Kiss_, she thought as every muscle in her body continued to contract and to relax as she sobbed. Althea could almost feel Dumbledore's wand against her scalp. Dumbledore had kept Althea from Sirius, and in their brief conversation had warned her not to harm Sirius. Did Dumbledore believe as Althea and Remus? He must. Had he prevented the dementors from catching Sirius? Was Sirius still at Hogwarts, waiting to explain to her the circumstances?

Remus rested his hand on her convulsing shoulder. "Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen," he replied—his own voice unsure. "Come on, we need to return to the castle. We need to find Dumbledore."

Roughly wiping her eyes, she sat up and realized Remus had no clothes. "Remus, it's morning and you're naked," she replied and found herself fighting off a smile.

"Oh, right," he murmured and the two laughed uncomfortably. "I suppose I'll wrap myself in a blanket," he added and looked thoughtfully at Althea. "We didn't know, Althea. He'll forgive you, I know he will," he whispered and kissed her cheek.

Althea frowned. "I don't want his forgiveness."

The couple left the Shrieking Shack and Remus briefly stopped to pick up the Invisibility Cloak that had been left on the school grounds. He immediately traded the tattered blanket for the Invisibility Cloak and they started for the castle. The grounds seemed brighter and the cold chill that Althea would feel even on a warm morning such as this was gone. She could feel it in her bones—the dementors were gone. Althea swallowed—did they take his soul with them?

"You know, you're not the first one to be naked underneath that cloak," she remarked as they entered the castle.

"Yes, Sirius told us all of the night you both went skinny dipping," he whispered. "James never let him borrow the cloak again."

"It wasn't because we went skinny dipping," she replied with a smirk. "Damn, students…. Hello…. Hello…. Morning," she added and nodded as the students passed.

"Althea, hurry," Remus whispered heatedly.

"If I walk any faster I'll arouse suspicion," she replied and rolled her eyes as more students came into the corridor. "Morning…. Hello…. Hello…. Morning," she replied, smiling as the students looked at her strangely. "Now the students think I'm mental," she whispered as they turned the corner.

"Stop talking to me, then," he whispered and groaned. "They don't have classes—why are they up so early? There's a detour behind the portrait."

Althea's stomach tightened for Dumbledore had entered the corridor. She would soon learn Sirius's fate.

"Dumbledore," she whispered, watching as he walked toward the pair.

"Oh, right, ask him!" he whispered quickly and nudged Althea forward.

Taking a deep breath, she started, "Headmaster, sir, may I ask you—"

Dumbledore raised his hand and smiled. "He is safe—"

Althea smiled as a wave of relief washed over her.

"I dare say, far away by now," he continued—a small twinkle in his eye. "Remus told you, no doubt."

Althea nodded. "Thank you, Headmaster, I—"

Dumbledore raised his hand once more. "No need, Althea," he replied and looked over her shoulder. He began to chuckle. "I think you and Remus should dress, breakfast is shortly."

Althea blushed. "Right, thank you," she murmured. "See you at breakfast," she added with slight embarrassment as she started to walk away.

"Ah, Althea," Dumbledore said and Althea stopped. "I do have a request. Sirius told me some very interesting things last night."

"He did?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"I think it's best if you'd destroy that journal of your father. No matter how much I'd find it entertaining, I doubt the staff would enjoy a literal zoo," he replied, smiling to himself.

"Right," she breathed, nodding. "Good day, Headmaster."

"Good day, Headmaster," Remus said from underneath the cloak.

The couple quickly walked from Dumbledore to the portrait and Remus removed the cloak from his head. Sirius Black, with his soul intact, was free. She placed a hand upon her stomach to calm the excited twinge. What would the _Daily Prophet_ say? It would be splashed across the front page, no doubt. She bit her lip in gleeful anticipation. Whose reaction would she enjoy more, Snape's or Gran's?

"I'll see you at breakfast," Remus said, smoothing out his hair.

"Right—oh, your hand," she replied, pointing to the large wound on his hand. "You need to see Madam Pomfrey for an ointment."

Remus shook his head. "No, I'll wrap it—oh, don't make that face. It'll be fine, I promise," he replied and kissed her cheek. "I'll meet you outside the Great Hall?"

"Of course," she replied and tugged on the Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

"Remus, where are you? I'm hungry," she murmured, folding her arms.

"I'm right here," he whispered into her ear.

Startled, she jumped forward and turned around to see a smiling Remus.

"I bloody hate that," she said, straightening his collar. "How did you sneak up like that?"

"Shortcut," he answered and winked, patting his robe pocket.

Althea quickly kissed his lips. "Almost everyone is the Great Hall," she explained, resting her fingertips against his chest.

Remus laughed, playing with the pink ribbons on her bodice. "Do you propose we walk in one at a time to quell suspicion?" he teased as he twirled one of the ribbons around his index finger.

Althea took his hand from the ribbon and held it in hers. "No, that would arouse more suspicion, I think," she replied, leading him toward the Great Hall. "No, we should discuss something very studious as we enter. How about the Doxies?"

"Doxies?" he repeated as he rested his hand on the large door handle. "About the time we had to sedate you as one flew into your hair?" he added as he went to open the door.

Althea placed her hand on the door, preventing him from opening it. "You didn't sedate me, Lily sedated me," she replied, still holding the door shut. "You four were doubled over in laughter—you and Sirius especially."

"You know," he began with a wry smile, "that is the memory I use for my Patronus."

"You're joking," she scoffed and Remus's grin widened.

"Right, it was the first time I saw your breasts—ow!" Remus replied and rubbed his upper arm. "I was only joking."

Althea leaned against the door, realizing that she had not witnessed Remus act so jokingly since the days before James and Lily died. The ease in his mannerisms were no longer tinged with sadness.

"You're acting more like a student than a professor," she replied, mimicking his wry smile.

Remus shrugged and tossed the hair from his eyes.

"You're happy he's back, aren't you?" she asked, resting the side of her head against the cool wood of the door.

"I have my best friend back," he answered and sighed happily.

What about Peter?" she asked, lifting herself from the door.

Remus frowned slightly. "I mourned for him a long time ago," he replied, resting his hands on her shoulders.

Althea frowned as well. "What about me?"

Remus laughed quietly. "I thought you were hungry," he replied and opened the door. "Come on, let's eat."

Remus opened the door, allowing Althea to enter the Great Hall. Immediately, she noticed a few students' faces turn toward their direction. _It's normal; they just wanted to see who has entered_, she thought, her stomach queasy. She cursed that her chest would betray her unease as more eyes followed them. Remus didn't seem to notice or care. The blush traveled up her neck as more students turned to see the couple as they reached the Head Table.

"Thank you," she murmured to Remus—who had pulled out her chair—as she sat.

Dipping her knife into the strawberry marmalade, she noticed a few of the students nudging and whispering to one another—a few even pointing. _Oh God, they know_, she thought, spreading the large amount of strawberry marmalade onto her piece of toast. _Somehow, someone discovered Remus and I had sex, and now everyone knows_. She stared at her toast. _I wasn't that loud, was I_? With the rustle of papers to Remus' side, she knew the _Daily Prophet_ had arrived. She peered across Remus as Flitwick placed the newspaper next to him. Sirius Black's innocence was not splashed across the cover. Instead, the headline read:

**SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES DEMENTORS…AGAIN: **

**MURDERER STILL AT LARGE**

"Remus, look," she whispered, holding the toast to her lips.

"Damn," he muttered and slipped his hand into hers. "We know the truth."

"_Still_—"

"We _know_."

Althea was drawn to two Slytherin seventh-year girls. The one with blonde hair pointed to the couple and then whispered to the redhead, who let out a knowing giggle. She knew that look very well.

She took a nervous bite of toast and swallowed. "Remus, they know."

"Know what?" he asked, placing his goblet of pumpkin juice before him. "No one saw me this morning."

"No, about _us_," she whispered, holding the goblet to her lips.

"Ridiculous," he replied and took another sip of pumpkin juice.

"What else could it be?" she asked, talking into her goblet.

"Lupin, I'm very sorry Severus told the Slytherins about you," Professor Sinistra said as she stood behind Remus.

The goblet slipped from Althea's hand, but she caught it—splashing pumpkin juice upon her hand and wrist. She looked over to Snape—a garish smile spread across his face. _I hate you with every fiber of my being_, she thought, roughly wiping her hand with her napkin. Resisting every urge to leap over the table and stab Snape with his butter knife, Althea returned her attention to the conversation between Remus and Sinistra.

"He did, did he?" Remus said lightly and took a bite of toast.

Sinistra nodded. "He accidentally told the Slytherins this morning," she explained, looking toward the Slytherin table, "so naturally, everyone knew immediately."

Althea cringed as she heard a few of the Slytherins howl.

"It was an uproar—I do believe some of them have already owled their families," Sinistra continued, looking at Remus thoughtfully. "Don't let them discourage you."

Remus smiled a vacant smile. "I won't, thank you," he replied—his voice restrained.

Sinistra left and Althea continued to observe Remus—he was reeling inside, but he refused to show it.

"Would you like to leave?" she asked, touching his forearm.

Placing his hand over hers, he forced the warmest smile. "No, I think I want to enjoy my last breakfast with you, here," he answered and tenderly squeezed her hand.

Large tears pressed against her eyelids. "No, you can't—"

"Oh—look—your favorite, strawberries," he interrupted, taking the large bowl of red, ripened strawberries into his hands. "Here you go," he continued, placing four large strawberries onto her plate. "Tuck in."

Althea looked at the strawberries and sniffed loudly. "I'm not hungry anymore," she murmured, touching a strawberry with her index finger.

"You were starving a few minutes ago," he replied and laughed hollowly. "You'll be complaining by lunchtime that you haven't eaten anything all day," he continued and placed a strawberry in her hand. "Tuck in."

Althea placed the strawberry into her mouth and bit down, looking across the students as she chewed. The majority of Gryffindors were glum as were the Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws (and she might've spotted a Slytherin or two)—no doubt due to learning the truth of their favorite professor. She spotted Prudence, who sat in front of an unfinished plate of breakfast. Prudence sat with her head resting against her chin, sighing at her plate of breakfast. _You'll never know the truth about your father_, she thought and took a large bite of strawberry. _You'll always think of him as a crazed murderer…your boggart. He didn't want you dead. He wanted you. He loved you_.

"Prudence shouldn't look so glum," he whispered into Althea's ear. "She did very well on her exam."

"Did she?" she asked, turning toward Remus.

Remus nodded. "Full marks on her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam…one of only five first-year students," he answered and smiled—a genuine smile.

"I'd expect no less," she replied, smiling. "Her father did battle Death Eaters."

A hint of shock registered across Remus's face and he quickly smiled. "You're not afraid anymore?"

"No, I'm not afraid anymore," she replied and looked toward Prudence.

Prudence sighed and turned her attention from her plate toward Snape—her expression instantly transforming into one of loathing. An overwhelming sense of pride surged throughout Althea.

"Let's hope she's a thorn in Snape's greasy side for the next six years," she added, smiling.

"Indeed," he sighed as looked upon Prudence. "Wish I could've taught her a few more things."

The two finished their breakfasts and left the Great Hall—much to Althea's relief. She could not wait to confront Snape and to tell Dumbledore of Snape's betrayal of confidence. Sugar in the Wolfsbane and the disclosure of Remus's affliction were unforgivable in Althea's mind.

"Are you going to your office?" she asked as the two walked along the corridor.

"No, I need to speak with Dumbledore," he replied and sighed. "Then I need to pack."

"No!" she gasped and stopped walking. "You can't resign! You can't leave!"

"Althea—"

"You are the most-loved professor here! The children adore you and the staff admires you," she pleaded, tugging at his sleeves. "You can't leave."

"Althea, I have to—"

"You don't have to," she said, placing her hands upon his chest. "You are the _best_ Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Hogwarts has had in years! Years, Remus!" she continued, her lower lip began to tremble. "You're perfect."

Remus took her face in his hands. "It's too dangerous for me to be here—"

"Too dangerous?" she questioned. "Now you think it—"

"I was stupid to think—I could have bitten or killed a student," he replied in earnest. "There is no other option."

Althea frowned. "Yes, there is," she replied, "the Shrieking Shack—you used the Shrieking Shack for seven years."

"There are ways of escaping. There is always that chance—look at last night," he replied, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "If I were in my office or my quarters, I would have killed you when you opened the door."

"No—"

"Althea, I would have torn out your throat," he interrupted and Althea wrinkled her nose.

"Remus, Snape put sugar into the Wolfsbane Potion," she said, and felt Remus's hands briefly retract against her skin. "I saw it last night when I went to check on you. He must have tampered with the potion the entire week."

Remus remained silent.

"He wanted you to be discovered."

Remus's expression turned grim. "It was a violent transformation; although, I did not drink it last night—"

"It wouldn't matter—"

"I'll tell Dumbledore of your suspicion—"

"It's not suspicion, Remus," she interrupted, resting her hands on his. "It's fact."

"It's a fact parents don't want a werewolf teaching their children," he countered, removing his hand from underneath hers and stroking the hair away from her face. "Now, I need to see Dumbledore," he added softly and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye."

"Remus, no," she pleaded, holding onto the sleeves of his robes. "You can't let Snape win."

"Win?" he laughed, gently prying her hands from his robes. "In time, the students would have discovered the truth."

"No, they wouldn't have," she replied, taking hold of his robes again. "The majority isn't that clever."

"Hermione did."

"She can't be considered with the rest of the students," she replied, shaking her head. "She did, though?"

Remus nodded. "After Snape's essay," he answered and once again gently pried her hands from his robes.

"Look, one student and—_and_ she didn't tell," she replied, poking him in the chest. "Others might've discovered as well, but they didn't tell. The students are fiercely loyal to you."

"Even so," he began, resting his hands on her shoulders, "their parents aren't."

"How would you know? There could be some enlightened parents," she replied, resting her hands on her hips.

Remus smiled a weak smile. "I doubt that very much," he said and sighed. "Now, I need to find Dumbledore," he added and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," she murmured as Remus walked away.

_It doesn't have to end like this_, she thought and bit her bottom lip, staring at where Remus once stood. _He's a good and brilliant man_.

"God, I hate you Snape," she whispered, folding her arms.

"If I had it my way, you'd be in Azkaban now with that werewolf," Snape said from behind her.

Althea quickly turned to face him. "They don't put people away for a kiss on the cheek," she replied, slipping her hand into her robe pocket. She felt her wand and smiled.

_I would find it so pleasing to blast him across the corridor again_, she thought, as she saw Snape reach into his own pocket.

"I will discover how you helped Black escape," he sneered—his eyes narrowing. "I swear I will."

"Like I'd help Sirius—I wanted to kill him last night," she replied, tightening her grip on her wand, "don't you remember?"

_No, a wand is too good for him_, she thought, releasing her wand. _I want to feel my fist connect with that greasy face_.

"And I swear I will tell Dumbledore of his mediocre Potions Master," she continued and smiled as Snape's sneer had faded. "You'd think a Potions Master would know not to put sugar into Wolfsbane as it renders it useless, but last night as I went to check on Remus as I had always done, I found sugar in the bottom of the goblet."

"I wouldn't put it past Lupin to do something so foolish," he replied—the sneer returning.

Althea thrust her forefinger toward Snape. "_You_ placed sugar into the Wolfsbane knowing full well that I would check on Remus."

"Likely," he sneered

"What? Wanting to rid Hogwarts of both of us?" she questioned, advancing on Snape.

Swiftly, Snape produced his wand, pointing it between her eyes.

"I don't need a wand," she growled, narrowing her eyes.

"You think too highly of yourself. You can't prove anything," he replied—his voice waspish. "The Headmaster won't believe your word over mine."

Althea rolled her eyes in disgust. "Lower your wand, not everyone is out to hex you."

"You give me no reason to put my wand away," he replied, still pointing his wand between her eyes. "Your behavior only proves how much you are a danger."

"You endangered the lives of countless children last night! You're the one that should resign!"

"I'm not a werewolf!"

Althea slapped Snape across the cheek. She cradled her stinging hand. Merlin, did it feel fantastic! She thought of doing it again.

"It angers you, doesn't it?" she began and admired the pink upon Snape's sallow cheek. It suited him. "To think I was chosen before you—the Muggle Studies Professor—to instruct the children in Defense Against the Dark Arts after Scrimgour's promotion six months into his tenure…such a low blow—"

"You were useless—"

"Best friend's a werewolf and I shagged a supposed Dark wizard, I reckon I know _something_," she remarked, looking at the curve of her manicured nails. "Dumbledore _obviously_ thought me qualified." She looked up, and smirked as Snape's lips thinned. "You look a bit peaky."

"The Dark Arts are not a joke," he said lowly, stepping forward. "You have no idea—"

"And now, _Remus_ is professor, and you can't stand that the children love him and the staff admire him…a werewolf," she said and Snape stopped speaking. "Then, there's you—sitting in the corner at meetings—not talked to, not acknowledged," she continued as Snape looked to be done with this conversation. "It must anger you to see Remus get a handshake from another professor while you get a curt nod, or when Rosmerta flirts with him and ignores you. If she only knew, right? Does it? Does it anger you?"

"Does it anger you that Parker calls another woman mother?" he answered—his lips curving into an awful smile, showing his yellow, uneven teeth.

Althea laughed again. "Of course, she calls another woman mother because I'm not her mother," she replied, shaking her head. "Did you forget that my daughter was murdered by your Death Eater friends? You can visit her grave. I do—every birthday and Christmas."

"You don't fool me, Morrigan," he replied, looking into Althea's eyes.

Althea felt her mind being pried open—she made a face at him.

"This conversation is over," he added and turned on his heel.

Althea was not about the end the conversation. "You know," she began loudly as Snape continued to walk away. "It was a very _reckless_ and stupid thing you did last night. It reminded me of something _Sirius_ would have done," she continued and smiled as Snape stumbled slightly. "Good day, Snape," she added and turned to walk in the opposite direction.


	65. Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, Early June 1994

**Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, Early June 1994**

Althea entered her office and threw her wand across the room—it landing, in a shower of sparks, onto the floor. _The nerve of that odious man_, she thought, roughly sitting into her chair behind her desk. _I think I left him reeling though. Good one, Althea, saying it was something Sirius would have done_.

"Sirius," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. "God, what am I to do?" she lamented, throwing her head back.

_I don't want to know what he'd do if he discovered the truth_, she thought, staring at her ceiling. _I was so awful to him in Azkaban. Every day, describing in detail how I supposedly died, and I wouldn't stop until he lost it_, she thought and shuddered. _I wanted him to think I was dead …and I still want him to think that I'm dead_. Althea slowly spun her chair from side to side. She swallowed at the thought of Sirius's weeping. Good God! When had he wept for her prior to Azkaban? Never. Azkaban brought despair and humiliation. It made one raw. Her belly became tight—those tears were honest.

"And I laughed at him," she whispered.

_How else should I feel_, she questioned and closed her eyes. _'Oh Sirius, I should never have doubted you! I'm so sorry! Oh, take me back, please! Let me shag you repeatedly_!' She let out a mournful laugh. _I'd throw myself off the Astronomy Tower before that_, she thought and imagined herself—her thin nightgown swirling around her ankles and her hair swept into the air in dramatic fashion—upon the Tower's edge, her bare feet inching toward the precipice. The fortuitous crack of lightening illuminated Sirius's form upon the tower. _And I reckon he'd help push me. He can think I'm dead and I'd be happy…it's better for all of us_. Althea opened her eyes as Sirius gave her that good push over the Tower's edge.

The morning _Daily Prophet_ rested upon a stack of papers upon her desk. She considered the paper for a moment, her finger flicked at the bent edge. Why hadn't the Ministry exonerated Sirius? There were witnesses and Dumbledore, and wasn't Pettigrew into custody? Unless…Althea remembered the brief conversation she witnessed between Dumbledore and Sirius. Sirius had mentioned that Pettigrew had bested him again. Althea's eyes widened. Pettigrew had escaped. She quickly lifted her feet from the floor and forced herself back into her chair. He could be in her very office.

Althea slipped her wand from her robe pocket. "_Homenum revelio_," she whispered, and satisfied that Pettigrew was not in her office, she exhaled.

She reached for the newspaper and unrolled the parchment. Underneath the bold titled headline was Sirius's portrait. Althea smoothed the parchment and leaned forward, peering at the prison photograph. Did the knowledge it was Pettigrew that had betrayed her friends bring her relief? She thought to the moment as each faced Voldemort—that brief recognition of betrayal. Did she find comfort that their shock was directed at Pettigrew and not Sirius? No, it did not. What would James think of her? She could almost feel his head upon her knees, begging her to help Sirius survive the bastardized Thyran potion. She thought of Lily and tightly shut and then widened her eyes to suppress her tears. Of the three, she was the last to survive—the one that could fight for his innocence, but she did not. _He won't forgive me_, she thought as Sirius's photograph seemed to mouth something.

The urge too great, Althea opened the desk drawer. Shuffling underneath papers and envelopes, she pulled out a silver picture frame. She frowned—she did not do the best job of repairing it after throwing it across her office. Taking one last look at the prison photograph, she lifted the silver picture frame close to her. Beneath the mended glass, Sirius hoisted a jubilant Althea into the air and spun her around. The young Althea buried her face against Sirius's neck and he twirled her at greater speed. He stopped, and the two staggered as they parted, but Sirius's eyes—his lively grey eyes filled with devotion—remained upon her. His gaze—hopeful and proud—lingered upon her as Althea pointed to her stomach. Althea's fingers caressed his face as he pulled the young Althea back into his embrace. The scene began to replay again, but Althea allowed herself to remember his words, "I never wanted something so much. I love you." Those words that had gnawed at her, which she forced herself to believe were lies, were the truth. She groaned quietly at the sick feeling in her stomach despite its emptiness.

A knock at the door prompted Althea to sit up. She hurriedly stuffed the picture frame into the desk drawer. "Yes? Come in," she replied and sniffed as she smoothed her hair and bodice.

Althea caught her breath as she saw the face of Prudence peek through the door. _Come on, God, one more. Have her tell me she knows and she hates me_, she thought as she forced a smile. _It'll be a brilliant way to finish the week_.

"What a surprise," Althea standing, standing and walking to the front of her desk. "Mind the papers—I'd feel absolutely awful if you slipped," she said as she leaned against the front of her desk.

Prudence, carrying a neatly wrapped package, nervously entered and carefully stepped over the piles of papers. She bit her bottom lip and stopped before Althea.

"It's such a lovely day," she added, and hopped on top of her desk. "What brings you to my office?"

Prudence sighed sadly. "It isn't a lovely day," she murmured, her eyes directed at the floor.

"Oh," Althea replied thoughtfully, "why is that so?"

_Here it comes_, she thought, taking a deep breath.

"Professor Lupin…will he have to leave?" she asked, looking from the floor to Althea.

"Come, sit," Althea replied softly—feeling a small amount of relief—pointing to her desk. Quickly, she shoved the papers away so that Prudence could sit next to her. "It seems so."

Prudence frowned. "I don't want him to leave."

"I don't want him to leave either," she agreed, folding her arms. "However, it's not our decision."

"I wish it was," she replied gruffly. "He was the best professor—oh, it was awful—just awful. A few of the Slytherins started to scream and one girl fainted. He was smiling the whole time—"

"Who?"

Prudence's expression turned dark. "Professor Snape—oh, I wanted to curse him!" she replied, squeezing the small package in her hands.

Althea quickly placed her hands over Prudence's hands. "Whoa, please don't curse Professor Snape."

_Leave that to me_, she thought, uncurling Prudence's fingers from the package.

Prudence's expression softened and Althea continued, "I would hate to see you expelled, you know."

Prudence raised an eyebrow as she quizzically looked at Althea, and Althea realized her somewhat awkward sentence.

"Professor Lupin's told me how well you've done this year."

Althea cringed at the continued awkwardness. Why would Remus care if Althea knew of Prudence's performance? She prayed her daughter wouldn't catch on.

"He did?" she asked, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink.

Althea suppressed a smile as she nodded.

"Well, I did receive full marks on my exam—he told me so," she replied—her demeanor hinting of arrogance. "I believe I received full marks on all my exams."

_She just sounded like her father_, she thought, her mouth slightly open from surprise. _Next, she'll say that she doesn't need to study because she knows it all_.

"Studied loads, then?"

Prudence let out a girlish snort.

Althea noticed Prudence fiddling with the red and yellow bow on the package. "Did one of your friends give that to you?" she asked, pointing to the package.

Prudence blushed once more. "No," she murmured. "Could you—could you give this to Professor Lupin?" she asked and shoved the package into Althea's hands. "My friends and I made it."

Althea looked down at the gift and bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling. "Right, of course," she replied and cleared her throat. "You know, I think he would enjoy it more if you were to give him this gift," she continued, but Prudence furiously shook her head. "Right, I see. Any more instructions?"

Prudence started to speak, but furrowed her eyebrows instead. "Professor, will Professor Lupin be all right?"

"I believe so," she answered somewhat unsure, twirling the gold ribbon around her index finger. "He's a wonderful teacher and he's always been able to find work—"

"No, he won't," she interrupted, her lower lip trembling. "It's very difficult for werewolves to find work. Employers use the Registry to discriminate—"

It was Althea's turn to interrupt. "Where did you learn this?" she asked, unable to suppress a smile.

_She just started to paraphrase my father's book_, she thought as Prudence clammed up.

"Don't ever be ashamed of what you think," Althea said as she stood and walked behind her desk to her large bookcase. "Especially when it's the truth," she continued, searching the middle shelf for her father's books. "Ah, here it is," she said, taking the much worn book from the shelf and holding it for Prudence to see. "I see you've read _Wandering Werewolf_ by Daniel Morrigan…my father."

Prudence's eyes widened in surprise. "He's your father?" she asked, taking hold of the book. She flipped through the pages to the dedication and nodded. "'To my darling baby, Althea.' Is that you?"

Althea nodded. "And I wasn't a baby—I was _thirteen_," she explained and Prudence giggled. "When I was sixteen, we had an extended werewolf essay and a few of us quoted my father's book," she continued and laughed. "My professor didn't like that _at all_. We were considered subversive and given detentions."

"Did you fight back?" she asked, closing the book.

"In our own way," she replied, smiling wryly. "Anyway, have you read his other books?" she asked, taking the book from Prudence.

"Oh—oh no," she replied and bit her bottom lip. "It is the only book in the library."

"Would you like to read the others?" Althea asked and stood. "I have all of his books and I think you'd enjoy them," she continued as she walked toward her bookcase and waved for Prudence to join her. "Now, you've read one of his books on werewolves—"

"There is more than one?" Prudence asked—her eyes scanning Althea's books.

"You read the second book," she explained as she held up the first book. "He wrote this when I was five…_but_ I believe you'd enjoy this book more," she continued and presented Prudence with the book. "_Muggles and Magic Demystified_."

Prudence mouthed the title as she opened the book. "What is it about?" she asked as she flipped through the pages.

"How Muggle cultures perceive magic," she answered, watching her daughter eagerly flip through the pages.

_Your grandfather would be unbelievably proud_, she thought as Prudence stopped to read a passage.

"In some areas, the secrecy isn't as strict as it is here," she continued and winked.

Prudence's eyes widened. "Really," she breathed as she turned the page.

Althea gasped and bit her lip as Prudence gazed at a photograph of Althea and Sirius. She had not read the books in years and must have placed a photograph of the couple in the book as a bookmark. Althea's mind and body buzzed and hummed—how she wished she could grab the photograph from Prudence. She would have to play it cool as not to arouse suspicion. The mischievous, handsome teenage Sirius did not resemble the corpse of Azkaban.

Prudence looked from the photograph of the couple to Althea and smiled. "I didn't know you played Quidditch," she commented and returned to looking at the photograph.

Althea nervously cleared her throat. "I did," she replied, tapping her index finger against the photograph. "I was the Seeker."

"Seeker," she murmured, not taking her eyes from the picture, "you're too pretty to play Quidditch."

"Is that so?" she asked as she leaned against the bookcase.

"It's true," she remarked, smiling, "you're not the least bit sporty."

"I'll have you know I played Quidditch starting in my fourth-year—yeah, fourth-year. I was in my seventh-year, then," she replied and Prudence produced a feminine, bark-like laugh.

"Your wearing pink lip gloss, lilac eye shadow, and mascara," she remarked, pointing to Althea's face in the photograph. "You're _not_ sporty." Prudence continued to examine the photograph, and gasped and giggled as Sirius kissed Althea. "Oh, he fancies you," she commented as Sirius kissed and tickled a squirming Althea. "Was he your boyfriend?"

Althea, very uncomfortable, sat atop her desk. "He—you're a very inquisitive young lady," she replied, folding her arms and crossing her legs at her ankles. "I could ask if you have a boyfriend."

Prudence sighed forlornly and frowned. "You don't need to, it's my sorry lot not to have one," she lamented and sighed again as Sirius kissed Althea's cheek.

"You're twelve—you have ages ahead of you," she laughed, shaking her head in amusement. "Anyway, boys are very stupid at twelve."

"He probably wasn't very stupid," she muttered and Althea continued to laugh.

"Oh, he was the worst!" she replied, throwing her head back. "He was very stupid and absolutely horrible to me," she explained, lifting her head to see Prudence slightly smile. "But he did mature a bit…a bit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Where is he now?"

Althea caught her breath. "I—I don't know," she answered, resting her hands behind her on the desk.

"You should find out and look for him," she said steadfastly, handing Althea the photograph.

"Should I?"

"Yes," Prudence replied. "He could be searching for you."

_Let's hope not_.

"Oh, I don't think—it's been ages—"

Prudence sighed with mild annoyance.

Althea gave in to her daughter's romantic whims. "Then what should I say when I find him?"

Prudence frowned thoughtfully, looking from Althea to the photograph in Althea's hand. "I believe you should say, 'I forgive you for whatever horrible thing you did in the past that made me think you stupid. I love you.' There," she said and Althea found it difficult to stifle her laughter.

_Whatever he did that was stupid_, she thought—the muscles around her mouth aching as she suppressed her smile. _I think I actually might have said that to him at one time…but oh, how I don't want him back! He'll hate me more than you'll ever know_.

"I have a question though," she began to ask as Prudence leaned against the bookcase, "what if he doesn't accept my plea?"

"It isn't a plea," she answered quickly, kicking her heel against the floor. "How could he not accept? He's probably spent all these years longing for you, too—"

"Longing?"

_I think the proper word would be mourning_, she thought, uncrossing her legs at her ankles.

"Yes, longing," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "Am I the only girl that reads?"

Althea could no longer hide her laughter. "Life and books are very different—"

Prudence shook her head. "I don't believe so."

Althea smiled thoughtfully at Prudence. "Maybe I'll find him," she said and Prudence's pink lips upturned into a smile, "and maybe I'll utter those words you told me to…" Althea playfully narrowed her eyes, "but no promises."

Prudence sighed happily. "Brilliant, it's settled then."

"Indeed, it is."

Prudence looked to the book in her hands and bit her bottom lip.

"It's such a beautiful day," Althea said, folding her arms. "I'd spend my entire day outside underneath that beech tree on the grounds. Unfortunately, I have to mark exams or else I won't make it to Bermuda."

"Bermuda?" she replied, her eyes widened with interest.

Althea nodded. "I spend most of my holiday there," she explained. "I lived there as a small girl."

"Really?" she breathed. "I would like to go to such a place."

_You almost did_, she thought and sighed uncomfortably.

Prudence wrinkled her nose at the stacks of papers. "Well, I must be off. It is a lovely day after all," she continued, and patted the book. "Thank you for the book. I'll return it before holiday."

"Wonderful," she replied, standing from her desk. "If you'd like, you could borrow the other books as well."

_I'll just have to make sure there are no more pictures of ex-boyfriends or your father in them_, she thought, watching Prudence as she walked toward the door. _That would be bloody fantastic for you to find one of me pregnant with you. Be more careful, Althea! Especially with your daughter_!

"Right," Prudence replied, smiling. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome. Happy reading."

"Right," Prudence replied, opening the door. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," she replied as Prudence exited.

Althea watched the door close and sighed deeply.

"I have given birth to the silliest girl in all of Britain," she said with disbelief, rubbing her forehead.

* * *

Althea spotted Remus carrying his crumbling suitcase and the empty grindylow tank.

"Remus!" she shouted, out of breath as she continued to run at full speed. "Remus!"

Remus continued to walk the platform, ignoring her shouting as other bystanders turned to look. _He's not stopping_, she thought as she almost collided with a very old witch. _He is not getting on that train without saying goodbye_!

"Remus! Remus, wait!" she shouted and stumbled over a pile of suitcases. "Bloody hell!"

Remus continued to walk the platform, turning to board his carriage. _If this doesn't stop him_, she thought, looking at her audience.

"Remus Lupin, you can't leave! I'm pregnant!" she shouted and cringed as a few witches and wizards turned to see who had shouted.

Remus stopped. The grindylow tank slipped from his arm, fell to the ground, and shattered—littering the platform with small shards of glass and powder. Althea covered her mouth as she let out a laugh of surprise. Quickly, she ran to Remus, who stood over his suitcase and the shattered grindylow tank.

"Couldn't you have yelled something different?" he asked quietly, not looking away from the broken tank. "Maybe, 'Remus Lupin, you forgot your lunch'?"

"You wouldn't have stopped for that," she replied, stooping to collect the shards of glass.

"Here, I'll mend this," he replied, taking his wand from his robe pocket and pointing it at the shattered tank.

Althea stood and felt pangs of guilt as she stared at Remus—he was visibly upset.

"Look, I'm sorry I shouted," she apologized, resting her hand on his upper arm.

Remus shook his head and then looked into her eyes. "You just don't joke about those things, right?" he reprimanded, removing her hand from his upper arm. "Especially when you're me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," she replied quietly and bit her lip. "Anyway, you know I can't get pregnant."

"I know, as you so eloquently moaned the other night. 'Don't worry, I can't—oh, Remus, oh, oh—' you, of course, know the rest," he spoke plainly and Althea giggled.

"It sounded like you were reading a textbook," she remarked and sighed. "Please, don't be cross with me," she added and kissed his cheek.

"I won't," he muttered and smiled hollowly.

"Anyway, why would you leave without saying goodbye? I walked to your office and it was completely empty," she replied, frowning slightly. "I hate when you leave without a goodbye."

"You know I'm terrible with goodbyes," he reminded, resting his hands on her shoulders.

Althea rested her hands against his chest—her fingers playing with the buttons of his robes. "I know, but I had to see you off."

"Then you'll start crying and that won't be good for the both of us," he replied, stroking the hair away from her face.

"I can't help it if I do," she replied, smiling sheepishly. "Anyway, I have a question."

"What?"

"Was I very silly at twelve?" she asked, pulling a loose string off his collar.

"Why do you ask?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, just answer," she replied, tugging at his collar.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "I suppose you were," he answered with a crooked smile. "You did enjoy acting out your one-woman plays in the Gryffindor common room—most of them involving dramatic death scenes where you'd fall off one of the sofas."

Althea sighed fondly. "I enjoyed that. Lily enjoyed that."

"Lily was the only one watching," he remarked and Althea playfully nudged him.

"Then how would you know about my one-woman plays?"

"In our dormitory, Sirius would reenact them for our amusement. He did a spot on impersonation of you," he explained and Althea frowned. "Once he broke is collar bone."

"Is that how he broke it?" she breathed and remembered the gift in her robe pocket. "Oh, I have something for you," she added, taking the gift from her pocket.

"You do? Thank you," he replied as Althea handed him the gift. "Did you do this?" he asked, examining the gift.

Althea shook her head. "Just open it," she demanded and bit her lip.

_What could Prudence and her friends give to him_, she thought as Remus slowly untied the ribbon.

"Stop being so bloody methodical and tear into it!" she encouraged, reaching for the package.

Remus pulled the package away from her and tore the paper from the gift. Letting the paper fall to the ground, he unfolded a small card addressed to him.

"'To Professor Lupin, from'—Althea, would you _stop_ humming Lulu," he demanded—his lips twitching into a smile. "Althea, please."

"What? 'What can I give you in return,' Remus?" she replied as she laughed. "I'm sorry. I'll stop now. I won't sing, 'Shout.'"

"Good," he replied, smiling. "You knew this was from Prudence, then? And you didn't open it? Didn't peak inside to see what she could be giving me?"

"I would never do that; I would never break her trust," she said and reached for the gift. "I thought it was from Prudence _and_ her friends."

Remus held the gift from her. "It is," he replied, folding the card.

"Then _open it_," she demanded, eagerly waiting for him to unwrap the tissue paper.

Remus unwrapped the tissue paper and laughed.

"What is it?"

"Here," he said and handed her the hand-painted red and gold picture frame.

"Oh, a photograph of the four," she gushed, smiling at Prudence who—with her arms around two of her friends, stood at the center, smiling. "Look at how beautiful she is," she said and affectionately caressed the photograph.

"She is very beautiful," he replied, slipping his arm around her waist. Althea rested her head against his shoulder as he continued, "How they make me laugh, too. I shouldn't tell you this, but Prudence is the worst of the four."

"No, today I realized that I gave birth to the silliest girl in all of Britain," she replied, her eyes transfixed on the photograph.

"I wouldn't go that far—"

"Yes, she is. The Parkers are two very saintly people," she remarked as Prudence winked. "She'll only get worse. It'll only be a matter of time before she sneaks out of her bedroom window to visit her boyfriend," she added and handed him the photograph.

"You'll be waiting outside Gryffindor Tower, I suppose," he replied and Althea murmured yes. "I really should board my train."

"No," she lamented, lifting her head from his shoulder. "I don't want you to go."

"I have to," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "Please, don't cry. You'll see me shortly."

Althea smiled weakly. "Are you sure about going on holiday?" she asked, her fingertips gently tracing circles into his chest.

"I'll see, and don't worry about money. I saved the majority of this year's pay, so I'll be fine," he explained softly and hesitated, as if he was struggling with something. "Althea, Sirius wrote to me already," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

Althea's stomach flipped, as she knew what Remus would say next. "So, this changes everything, then?" she whispered, sniffing back tears.

"I can't abandon him, Althea," he said, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, please," she replied, gently pushing away from him. "I understand," she continued, wiping her eyes.

"Althea, he needs you as well—"

"I can't," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I just can't."

"He needs to know you're alive. He has that right," he explained, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "It will help him."

Althea removed Remus's hand. "How can you accept him—take him back without question?" she asked, looking into Remus's eyes. "Remus, I can't…I just can't."

"He needs us," he replied and glanced toward the train. "I need to go," he replied and hugged her. "Goodbye."

Althea frowned—the anger bubbling inside her. _A hug? We made love a night ago and he says goodbye with a hug_, she thought as Remus held her tightly. Remus started to pull away, and Althea kissed his lips, wishing he would kiss back, but he did not.

"I'll write you," he replied, taking his suitcase and grindylow tank into his arms.

"Of course, you will," she replied and feigned a smile.

Althea watched Remus board the train and waved with feigned enthusiasm as the train pulled away from the station. _What else did you expect_, she thought as the train vanished from sight. _Did you expect a happy-ending_?


	66. New York, Late June 1994

**New York, Late June 1994**

I'm so looking forward to this holiday, _Althea thought eagerly, turning the doorknob to the front door. Happily, she flung the door open and examined the sizeable entrance hall—its high, white walls with ancient, iron wall sconces. Gliding her hand up the smooth wall, she turned on the switch, illuminating the entrance hall and starting the large ceiling fans._ I'll leave my suitcases here. I just want a bath after that trip_, she thought, heaving a large suitcase over the threshold. After carrying her other suitcase inside the entrance hall, she closed the door and walked toward the lengthy staircase on the other side of the entrance hall. _

_However, as she was about to ascend the staircase, she heard what sounded like a skipping record from behind the door to her right. Removing her wand from her purse, she cautiously opened the door and peered inside. _What the hell is this about_, she thought, frowning as she entered her father's study. She removed the needle from the record and tapped the record player with her wand, turning it off. _Maybe it's the housekeeper_, she thought, examining the record player. _Yeah, it must be her—it's plugged in, but why didn't she use the CD player over there?_ Awkwardly laughing at her apprehension, she placed her wand back into her purse, left her father's study, and walked up the lengthy staircase._ I'll have to tell her it's all right to use the CD player,_ she thought as she reached the top of the staircase. _She's probably still here since the record player was on; I'll have to find her before she leaves_. Althea walked toward her bedroom, but immediately stopped when she heard rustling from the guest room at the end of the hall. _Good, she's still here_, she thought, walking toward the guest room door. _

"_Beatrice, I'm here," she said as she opened the door, but immediately stopped and screamed from surprise. _

_The hippogriff screeched and flapped its wings as Althea hurriedly left the room and shut the door. Her hand tightly grasping the doorknob, she rested the back of her head against the white-painted, wooden door. _

"_A hippogriff in my guest room," she said aloud and took a deep breath. Suddenly, her eyes bulged as she realized why a hippogriff was in her guest room. "He's here!" she breathed excitedly. "Oh God!" _

_She had to leave. Frantically, Althea attempted to pry her hand from the door, but her fingers refused to release the doorknob. She would Apparate then, but her body refused to budge and prepare itself for the movement. _

_Suddenly, the door to her bedroom burst open and out rushed Sirius—emaciated, disheveled, and dirty. "Oh Buckbeak, what's the matter?" he asked with exasperation as he walked toward her. _

_Adrenaline coursed through Althea's body—shocking her system—and her knuckles whitened as she steadied herself with the doorknob. She did not want to meet him; she never wanted to meet him. _Damn it_, she thought as her hand slipped on the doorknob, _why must he be here? Did Remus tell him? Did Dumbledore? Damn it, I never wanted to see him_! Sirius looked up and stopped—his eyes transfixed upon her. Althea caught her breath and remained motionless, her eyes refusing to leave his skeletal face. _He doesn't look like Sirius_, she thought as she pressed her back against the guest room door. _His face…it's so different_. Her eyes searched his face for something to remind her that it was indeed Sirius standing before her. _His eyes_, she thought, looking into the sunken, darkened sockets. _Those are his eyes—it is Sirius_. _

_Immediately, Althea felt an upsurge of emotions, emotions she had no control over—emotions she wished would have stayed away. _I—I can't leave…I want to leave but I can't_, she thought, horrified, as he took a step forward and she pressed herself further into the guest room door. _Why won't my body move! Move, you stupid girl! Move! Don't let him touch you! Don't let him near you! You know what will happen, as soon as he touches you, you'll start sobbing and throw yourself into his arms. He doesn't deserve you, so move_! _

_However, her body betrayed her and she began to tremble as Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. _

"_Althea?" he asked quietly._

_Althea nodded—not removing her gaze from his._

_Sirius inhaled a deep, ragged breath and attempted to run his fingers through his filthy, matted hair that hung to his elbows. "God, I…" he began shakily, but turned his face away from her. _

_Disregarding all sensible thought and the slight piece of dignity that remained, she walked forward and stood within inches of him. He stood before her pathetic and broken, and she could not help but feel guilt and pity for him. _What am I doing_, she thought as her trembling fingertips touched the side of his face. Lightly, she glided her fingertips along his cheek, his tears trickling down her fingertips and onto her hand. _He's crying, my God, he's crying…I've never known him to cry_, she thought as he attempted to sniff back his tears. _My God, what has happened to you_? She did not know what to say to him, or if she could speak at all. Slowly, she turned his face to meet hers, and Sirius attempted to sniff back tears. _

"_I love you so much," she managed to say and buried her face into his boney shoulder. _

_Sobbing, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and her sobbing intensified as Sirius held her close to him—nuzzling her neck with his tear stained face. At this moment, it did not matter that he smelled like a hippogriff or probably had not bathed in twelve years. _I don't believe this_, she thought, holding him tighter. _I don't believe I'm doing this_. _

"_I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking her back. "I'm so sorry." _

"_I'm sorry, too," she whispered and attempted to stop her crying and her body from shaking._

_In the process, she snorted, which caused Sirius to snicker. _

"_Stop laughing at me," she murmured, not lifting her head from his shoulder. _

_Sirius continued to shake with laughter and secretly she smiled, enjoying the sound of his laughter as he held her in his arms. _

"_This is supposed to be our big romantic moment, and I snorted," she said, attempting to hide a smile as she lifted her head from his shoulder. _

_Sirius smiled and wiped the tear soaked hair from her face. "Oh, I think it's very romantic," he replied warmly, caressing her face with his thin hand. "Bloody hell," he sighed appreciatively, "I would never have imagined holding you again, but here I am." _

_New tears trickled down Sirius's cheeks and Althea raised her fingers to wipe them away. He closed his eyes, his grin broadening as she continued to touch his face. Gradually, he opened his eyes and rested his forehead against hers._

"_I want you to meet my fellow fugitive," he whispered. _

_Althea shook her head as she stood. "I think I frightened your hippogriff," she replied, looking toward the guestroom door as Sirius took her hand. "I doubt he'll want to see me after I screamed at him." _

"_Oh come on," he replied, tugging her hand as he walked toward the guest room. _

_Althea followed Sirius into her guest room and bowed as she entered. The hippogriff lowered his front legs, which allowed her to walk toward him. _

_She gently stroked the feathers on his neck as she spoke, "I'm sorry I screamed earlier. I wasn't expecting a hippogriff in my guestroom." _

"_So Buckbeak can stay in the guest room, then?" Sirius asked as he slid his arm around her waist. _

_Althea pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows. _

"_Oh, come on," he urged, pulling her close to him. "I owe him my life." _

"_I suppose so," she sighed, looking at Buckbeak. "Thankfully, Beatrice only comes round to care for the house when I'm not here; otherwise, Buckbeak would stay in the carriage house." _

"_Thanks," he murmured happily and kissed the top of her head, causing her to frown. "What's the matter?" he asked, stroking a curl that had fallen in her eyes behind her ear. _

"_Twelve years and you kiss me on the top of the head?" she remarked, smiling wryly. _

_Sirius laughed loudly. "You never would let me near you if I had garlic or onions." _

"_Twelve years," she murmured as she slid her arms around his neck. _

"_You know," he whispered, gently running his fingertips up and down her sides. "The last thing I ate was big, fat rat," he added and laughed as Althea sneered. "I'll clean up because honestly, I really want to take a bath," he finished and pinched her nose. _

"_I'll draw you a bath, then," she replied, tugging at his collar. _

"_I'd love that," he smiled. "Unfortunately, these filthy things are all I have," he added, looking at his clothes. _

_Althea shivered uncomfortably as she looked at the Azkaban prison robes, but refused to exhibit her uneasiness as she spoke, "Oh, I think I have some of your clothes somewhere." _

_Sirius laughed. "You've kept my clothes all these years?" he asked, shutting the guestroom door. _

"_I don't have a shrine to you, if that's what you're thinking," she remarked as they walked toward her bedroom. "They're probably up in the attic." _

"_Oh, yeah," he muttered sadly, and Althea knew he was remembering when he had moved some of their things to Bermuda in preparation of their hiding. _

"_I'll go out later and buy you some new clothes," she replied as they reached the bedroom door. "Are you keeping your hair that long?" she asked, attempting to change the subject as they entered the bedroom. _

_Sirius smiled. "You don't like my long hair?" he asked as they walked toward the bathroom. _

"_Not particularly," she replied, stopping at the linen closet. "I'll cut most of it off for you before your bath," she added, taking towels from the linen closet. _

_Sirius took the towels from her as they entered the bathroom. "I like my long hair though," he replied, placing the towels on the small table next to the bathtub. "It makes me look menacing." _

"_It makes you look like your mother," she muttered as she searched the cupboard under the sink for shampoo and soap. _

"_Cut it off straight away," he replied quickly. "Cut it off." _

"_I'm not going to cut it off just yet," she explained, placing shampoo and soap on the sink counter. Althea grunted as she stood. "Here," she continued, handing Sirius a spare toothbrush and toothpaste. "You'll need this as well." _

"_Thanks," he muttered, looking at the toothbrush and toothpaste. "I think I'll brush my teeth first. I looked at them in the mirror—they're awful," he explained as he squeezed copious amounts of the blue gel onto the toothbrush. "I think I'll need to learn a few Dental Charms." _

"_I believe I have an old book here," she replied, hopping up onto the sink counter. _

"_Great," he said and placed the toothbrush in his mouth. _

Dental Charms are only the first step_, she thought, as Sirius vigorously brushed his teeth. _You'll need a bath as well_. Althea wondered the last time Sirius had a bath, or at least, a shower. _The last proper bath was the night James and Lily died…no, probably bathed in streams since his escape_, she thought, frowning that Sirius smelled of earth and hippogriff. _

_Sirius spat into the sink, rinsed with water, and looked at his teeth in the mirror. He frowned, placed more toothpaste onto the toothbrush, and furiously brushed his teeth. _He might keep this up for an hour_, she thought, smiling at Sirius. Sirius winked at her and she sighed happily. _I wouldn't be surprised either. I remained in the bath for two hours for my first bath out of Azkaban…of course, Allegra wouldn't let me out_. _

_Sirius took the toothbrush from his mouth and spat into the sink. "Will you watch as I bathe, too?" he asked and went back to brushing his teeth. _

_Althea smiled as she swung her legs against the cupboard. "Probably," she answered, gently stroking her foot up and down his calf. _

_Sirius laughed as he shifted the toothbrush to the other side of his mouth. _

"_However, I am finding this very boring," she continued and Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I think you're stalling." _

_Sirius spat once more into the sink. "Stalling?" he repeated as Althea handed him a cup of water. _

"_Yes," she replied, slipping her foot between his legs, "stalling." _

"_Stalling from what?" _

"_From kissing me," she answered and Sirius laughed as he placed the empty cup onto the sink. "Do that again." _

"_Laugh?" he asked and Althea nodded. Sirius laughed quietly as he pulled Althea close to him. Resting his thin hand against her cheek, he spoke, "I've changed—physically, I mean…I'm not as young or handsome—"_

"_It doesn't matter—"_

"_No," he interrupted, cupping her face with his hand. "I'll understand if you're repulsed by me. I'm not who I used to be." _

"_Neither am I," she replied, slowly slipping her hands around his neck. _

"_No, you are," he replied, smiling. "You haven't changed at all."_

"_Stop stalling," she teased, tugging at his frayed collar. _

"_I'm not—"_

"_Yes, you are," she murmured, smoothing out his wrinkled, frayed collar. "You've probably forgotten how to kiss a girl," she explained and smiled mischievously. "Probably forgotten other things as well." _

_Sirius laughed quietly. "I can assure you, I haven't," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. _

_Althea mockingly frowned. "What, have you been snogging girls while on the run?" she teased and giggled as Sirius tickled her side. _

"_It's not something you forget," he murmured, closing his eyes. _

_Althea caught her breath as his lips touched hers. _No, it isn't_, she thought, wrapping her legs around his waist_….

Althea gasped as she opened her eyes. _Bloody hell, at least I awoke sooner this time_, she thought as a muscular arm tightened around her waist. Althea looked to her left as the young man with messy brown hair continued to sleep face down into his pillow. _He's twenty-two_, she thought, smiling to herself. _A twenty-two-year-old is sleeping in your bed…a twenty-two-year-old bassist_.

Althea looked at the clock—it was nine o'clock in the morning and at noon she would leave for Bermuda. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she carefully sat up as not to wake to Leif. _Leif_, she mused, slipping her right arm through the silk robe sleeve. _He's twenty-two, Althea…but Afina did introduce you and wanted you to know him_. Althea took one last look at him as she slipped her left arm through her silk robe sleeve. _However, I don't believe a week ago she had this in mind_.

"God, you're gorgeous," she whispered as she walked toward the door.

Althea walked to the kitchen and opened the freezer, taking out a pint of chocolate ice cream. Sitting at the kitchen table, she took a large spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. _At least I didn't dream about Sirius and I having sex on the bathroom floor_, she thought, swallowing the large spoonful, _like last time_. Since the revelation of Sirius's innocence, Althea's nightly dreams have been consumed with their meeting—with admissions of feelings never lost and rekindling of a relationship. She was confused and ashamed at her feelings for him—feelings she had fought to suppress to keep her sanity, to keep her alive. _Now it's all right to love him_, she thought, swallowing another large spoonful. _No_.

"I'll never write to him, Remus," she whispered, placing the spoon into the ice cream. "I never want to see him."

Althea quickly took another spoonful as she heard footsteps enter the kitchen. It was Afina's boyfriend, Bacchus T. Fox, the lead guitarist for the American Wizarding band, Pan…and Leif's best friend. He entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, rubbing the back of his black, spiky hair as he looked inside. Taking out a carton of orange juice, he opened it and took a large gulp as he closed the refrigerator door. Althea cringed and wished that she never drank from that orange juice carton.

"Oh, hey," he said and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hello," she replied, looking at the orange juice carton in his hand.

He looked to his hand and laughed. "Yeah, forgot," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He placed the carton back into the refrigerator and leaned against the kitchen worktop. "Did you like New York?"

"Somewhat," she answered, placing the spoon into the pint of ice cream. "I prefer the countryside really. I loathe London actually."

"Oh yeah?" he murmured and frowned. "You probably didn't enjoy the concert either."

Althea leaned forward and shook her head. "Oh, no," she replied emphatically, "I enjoyed the concert very much."

"You did?"

"Of course," she answered and smiled wryly. "I'm a schoolteacher, not a cloistered nun. I don't know what Afina told you—"

"I _told_ him you were my older, schoolteacher aunt from England," Afina finished, leaning against the doorway.

Afina was tall and thin, and her thick brown hair was artfully tousled. She pulled the vibrant kimono tighter around her naked frame.

"Brilliant, Afina, make me sound like I'm seventy," she murmured, leaning back in her chair.

"Until this week you dressed it," she replied and smiled as she sat across from her aunt.

"Thank you for my wardrobe," Althea replied, staring at the pint of ice cream. "I'm sure I'll be at the height of fashion when I return to Hogwarts for the upcoming school year."

"It's only your summer wardrobe, Auntie," she replied, charming a spoon across the kitchen. "Your fall wardrobe will arrive in September," she continued, taking a spoonful of ice cream.

"I'll have new clothes every season, then?" she asked and Afina nodded. "Do I have to pay for this?" she asked and laughed.

"No, but you have to promise me you won't dress matronly ever again—"

"I don't think she dresses matronly," Bacchus interrupted and smiled as Afina frowned at him.

An owl flew through the window and dropped an American Wizarding paper, _The Wizarding Post_, into his hands.

"Cool, they'll have the review of last night's show in here," he continued, unrolling the thick paper. "Their music critic was at the show."

"Don't believe anything awful he says," Afina said, turning toward Bacchus, who had found the article. "How is it?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"He loved it," he replied, smiling. "He said that we've topped our last tour and he feels sorry for those that don't have tickets to our tour."

"Brilliant!" Afina squealed, clasping her hands together. Afina excitedly turned toward Althea. "He's the top music critic in this country, Auntie. He hated the Famous Dead Wizards tour—this is brilliant!" she said and sighed happily. "Did he mention the costumes?" she asked, waiting for his answer.

Bacchus scanned the rest of the article and nodded. "Yeah," he answered—his grin widening. "According to him, you're, 'the fresh new look of American Wizard fashion.'"

Afina covered her mouth as she giggled.

"Bloody fantastic!" Althea exclaimed. "It's just the sort of publicity you need before you open that boutique in Salem."

Afina sighed appreciatively and turned her face toward Bacchus. "What's the matter?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Famous Dead Wizards," he muttered and rolled his eyes. "Capitalizing on that weird English psycho's escape, trying to turn him into some folk hero."

Althea caught her breath and took an absurdly large spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Afina turned toward Althea—a small frown line between her eyebrows had appeared. Weird English psycho?

Obviously unaware of Althea and Afina's apprehensions, Bacchus continued, "They were inspired by that article in _The 45_ about his American witch groupies—"

"Groupies?" Althea murmured in a distant voice.

"Yeah, sick right?" he remarked and folded the newspaper.

Althea swallowed a large amount of chocolate ice cream. She winced at the sharp headache.

"They've written, 'Baby's with Black,'—'"

Afina snorted and Althea fiercely kicked her under the table.

Bacchus tossed the paper upon the table. "A parody? Can't even write their own music."

"Just awful and tasteless," Afina remarked, shaking her head.

Althea inhaled a deep breath. "What is the song about?"

Bacchus shrugged his shoulders. "It didn't say much. It's about this girl that runs off with him, I guess."

"Oh," Althea whispered, looking at the melting ice cream. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty, Auntie," Afina replied quietly. "You're still leaving at noon, right?"

"Right," she replied, poking the ice cream with her spoon, "at noon."

Bacchus sighed and scratched his stomach. "I think I'll owl the rest of the band," he said and kissed Afina on the cheek. "Have any of you seen Leif?" he asked as he walked toward the door. "No, never mind. He's probably rehearsing somewhere…the moody bastard," he continued and laughed to himself.

As soon as Bacchus left, a small smile spread across Althea's face. "I have," she whispered—attempting not to giggle—as she took a spoonful of ice cream, "check my bedroom."

"Auntie!" Afina gasped and laughed as she looked at Althea with surprise.

"What?" she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "He liked my accent and I liked…everything."

Afina furrowed her eyebrows as she leaned forward. "He's in your bed, at this moment?" she asked, tapping her index finger on the table for emphasis.

"Yeah," she answered, smiling smugly to herself. "He is."

"What are you doing here? Go back!" she said emphatically, attempting to take away the pint of ice cream.

Althea protectively held onto the pint. "I want to finish my ice cream," she replied and scooped up another large scoop of ice cream with her spoon.

"Honestly, Auntie, I will never understand you," she remarked and sighed, resting her chin on her hand as she observed Althea with what seemed to be mild bemusement.

Althea swallowed the large spoonful. "What about you?" she asked, pointing her spoon at Afina. "You should be in bed with your boyfriend. Not here with me and he looking for the rest of his mates."

"You're thinking about that letter," she replied thoughtfully and took a spoonful for herself.

"I am not," she replied defensively. "I was hungry."

_And trying to forget my dream of Sirius_, she thought, placing her spoon on the table. _No, I wasn't thinking of that letter telling me the sham marriage to Sirius to save us from Azkaban was, indeed, a sham…that the justice of the peace wasn't licensed and illegally performed that marriage_. Early the day before, Althea had received a letter from her solicitor, detailing that the final preparations for divorce were unnecessary for the marriage certificate was invalid. The justice of the peace had performed over three hundred such illegal marriages in his twenty-year career. Overcome with excitement at the news and that a younger man fancied her (and pursued her like a reckless puppy), after the concert, she snuck away with Leif to her bedroom.

"Yes, you are," Afina said knowingly as she swallowed the ice cream. "I've never seen you act so celebratory."

"Celebratory?" Althea laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I have a twenty-two-year-old in my bed who fancies me…if anything, that's why I'm celebratory."

"Then go back to him."

"I will, when I finish this ice cream," she replied, taking the spoon in her hand.

"The whole pint?"

"Possibly," she murmured, twirling the spoon around her fingers. "Anyway, he's asleep."

Afina threw herself back in the chair with disgust. "Go upstairs and wake him."

"No, he needs his sleep," she replied, frowning. "That would be awful to wake him—he'd think I'm mental."

"You're just afraid, Auntie. You're thinking about that letter—"

"No, I am not," she interrupted, her voice elevated.

"Yes, you are. As soon as you opened that letter, your whole demeanor changed," Afina explained and attempted to take the ice cream away.

"What?" Althea remarked, roughly grabbing the ice cream. "Was I supposed to be depressed that the sham was a sham? I am bloody _thrilled_ that there is _nothing_ connecting me to him."

"Then why did I hear you mumble, 'Sirius, I love you,' when you were asleep on the couch yesterday?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. "You murmur in your sleep."

"I did not!" she replied, folding her arms. "I don't talk in my sleep."

"Yes, you do," she laughed, shaking her head as she looked at Althea. "When I was younger, I'd have a bit of fun and ask you things. You told me the sequence of four charms to unlock Gran's wine cellar."

"Is that how a few of the bottles went missing? I'll tell Gran."

Afina rolled her eyes and laughed. "I'll tell her about you at fifteen with Remus," she threatened and winked. "Oh, was that a shock when I was sixteen over Christmas Holiday."

"Is that why you went into a fit of laughter at the dinner table every time Remus spoke, and Gran had you confined to your room?" she asked, kicking her heel against the floor. She shook her head as Afina continued to laugh. "You're horrible."

"Not as horrible as you. The things Gran would tell me about you."

Althea threw her head back, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, Gran's a bloody saint for keeping me."

"Why do you torture yourself then?"

Althea lifted her head and sighed. "Because, in some odd way, I love that old woman. She's done more for me than you'll ever know," she explained, looking thoughtfully into Afina's eyes.

"She does try her best to marry you off. She was so angry that you did nothing to improve your chances with Remus."

Althea smiled bitterly.

Afina's expression changed and she opened and closed her mouth, frowning. "What? What is the matter?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Something did happen, didn't it?"

"The night before the last full moon," she replied, using her fingertip to trace invisible circles into the table. "I spent the night in his quarters."

"And?" she asked eagerly, smiling slightly.

"And nothing," she replied quickly and sighed with disappointment.

"Not the volcano of sexual repression I thought him to be?"

Althea let out a quiet laugh.

"What?" she asked, straightening. "So bloody mild-mannered and once a month he's a blood thirsty beast. I just thought—I _heard_ Sophie—"

"Sophie?"

Afina clamped her mouth shut.

"Out with it."

Afina sighed and picked at the table. "She shagged him."

"When?"

Afina made a face. "Ages ago, Auntie, when you were in Malibu," she answered. "Harrington made a joke, but Sophie cut him off by saying that he was boring in conversation but brilliant in bed."

Althea's lips quivered into a smile. "I reckon John hated that."

Afina nodded. "So?"

"So?"

Afina smiled mischievously.

"I enjoyed him very much," she said and sighed. "I thought—well, we were together, but all was ruined."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she answered and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Sirius returned."

Afina abruptly stood and furiously pointed her finger at Althea. "Tell me! Tell me you did not take him back! Of all the stupid things you've done—"

"Shut it, Gran, and _sit down_!" she replied heatedly, standing as well.

The two women roughly sat in their chairs, and Althea folded her arms.

"I didn't take him back. I almost killed him, if that's any indication of where my feelings lie."

"What does Sirius have to do with ruining everything, other than the obvious?"

Althea took a deep breath, picking up her spoon and dropping it into the pint of ice cream. She frowned as the spoon slipped—the ice cream coating the handle.

"Auntie?" Afina pressed.

Althea's gaze locked upon Afina's brown eyes. "He's innocent," she said quietly, the words seeming odd to say to another person.

Afina was speechless.

Slowly, Althea started to explain to Afina the circumstances of Sirius's capture and escape from Azkaban. She spoke of the night of the full moon—how Sirius broke into Hogwarts once more, the revelation that Peter was the spy and traitor, and that the relationship with Remus could not continue.

"So, you see, Remus did it out of profound loyalty. As if Remus could say, 'By the way, Sirius, Althea is not only alive, but I shagged her last night.' He couldn't betray his best friend," she explained and bit her bottom lip. "He's written me a few times."

"Sirius?"

"No, Remus. He believes Sirius has a right to know," she explained, resting her hands on the table. "To know that I'm alive."

Afina tenderly placed her hand on Althea's forearm. "He made your life hell, Auntie, don't let him know," she said and took a deep breath—seeming to look through the table. "I remember how you used to be…I remember Gran and I finding you drunk in the cottage."

Althea retracted her arm and covered her face with her hands. "God, I'm so sorry," she murmured, ashamed. "I threw that bottle at Gran and it almost hit you…I'm so sorry."

"You lost yourself," she replied and sighed sadly.

Althea heard her reach over the table and Afina gently lowered Althea's hands.

"You took me in when I had no one," she said softly, wiping the tears away from Althea's cheeks. "You did the best you could."

"I should have been—"

"A better mother, I know," she murmured and smiled a bittersweet smile. "I know it was my mother who betrayed us, and you tried to protect me," she continued and Althea whimpered. Afina pulled her chair around to Althea's side of the table. "You gave me Gran, and she has been the best mother—don't laugh—the best mother to me," she said, stroking wet strands of hair away from Althea's face. "But who taught me about boys—"

"I taught you what not to do—"

"—and sex, and snogging, and all those truly important things young girls need to know?"

"As if Gran could teach you about sex," Althea muttered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "You don't have to worry, I'll never let Sirius know I'm alive. I won't, ever. If it means I have to break my friendship with Remus, then I must."

"Will you go back to Hogwarts?" she asked, resting a concerned hand on Althea's shoulder.

"I don't know," she replied, frowning pensively. "I know he'd look there—he's that stupid to go back. I reckon Bermuda is safe," she explained and shook her head, dismissing her thoughts to leave Hogwarts. "Oh, but I should stay at Hogwarts. I need to protect her."

"Do you think she's in danger?"

Althea nodded solemnly. "If he discovers Prudence is alive, he will take back what is his—no matter the cost," she answered, looking at her hands in her lap. I have no doubt of it."

"He would kidnap her?"

"Oh yeah," she replied and sniffed back her remaining tears. "She is _his_ daughter and he absolutely hates it when he can't have something. When the Fat Lady wouldn't let him into Gryffindor Tower, he tore her portrait. I'd hate to think what he'd do to her parents," she explained and shivered as she took a deep breath. "No, even if he discovered I was alive, he must never know she survived," she added, looking into Afina's eyes with urgency.

"Would Remus tell?"

"No, he knows what Sirius is capable of," she replied, unsure if Remus's loyalty rested more with Sirius than her. "He would never let anything happen to her."

Afina rested her head upon Althea's shoulder. "You know, you could always stay here," she said as Althea slipped her arm around Afina. "I know Leif would enjoy it."

Althea laughed quietly to herself. "I might do that."


	67. Bermuda, Late June 1994

**Bermuda, Late June 1994**

Althea removed her sunglasses and sighed happily as she looked upon the entrance hall, with its high, white walls, the ancient, iron wall sconces, and the ceiling fans carrying the ocean breeze into her plantation home. She closed her eyes as she rested her back against the refreshingly cool, large doors. She was home. _I made it in record time, too_, she thought, untying the deep purple scarf under chin. _Bloody fantastic, those Quodpot brooms. I'm glad I bought one in New York; I'd look absolutely silly on a Firebolt_. Taking out her wand, she carefully lowered her trunk onto old wood floor.

"I'll deal with this trunk later," she said, pointing her wand toward the lock. "I want a swim."

Althea knelt next to the trunk and lifted the lid.

"What I _need_ is—oh, Afina, not a bikini," she murmured, holding up the small, purple bikini. "You know I have scars," she continued, twirling the bikini top in front of her, "but I suppose it doesn't matter when you're alone."

Sighing, she stood and kicked off her sandals. _I haven't worn a bikini in years_, she thought, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor. _There was a time I wouldn't have worn anything else. At least it's simple—oh look, a place for a wand at the hip. She's thought of everything_. Althea tied the bikini top behind her neck—feeling the bikini adhere to her skin from the Temporary Sticking Charm imbedded in the suit—and placed her clothes into the trunk. _I'm aching for the water_, she thought as she went to open the door. _I am missing something, though_.

"A towel," she murmured and frowned slightly. "Upstairs."

Althea quickly climbed the stairs and turned for her bedroom. As she was about to open the door, the door opened for her, and she laughed from surprise.

"Remus, what are you doing here?" she asked with humorous surprise. Suddenly embarrassed and self-conscious at her attire she crossed her arms in front of her. "I thought you had to change your plans."

"I changed them again," he replied quickly and she could sense his agitation.

Althea pulled him forward into the corridor. "What is the matter?"

Remus gave her a pleading look. "I think it best—"

"Moony," Sirius called out, "my spare wand's not in here!"

His voice. It wasn't upset with urgency or tinged with sadness. It was as she remembered when he spoke with his mates. Althea froze—her face and upper body losing all color. Remus had betrayed her…her best friend! He thought it good for her if she would reconcile with Sirius. If the two were to meet, he wrote her, the wounds upon their hearts would heal. She rejected the sentimental junk, but Remus would not falter in his insistence. Once again, someone had decided what was best for her. Now, Sirius Black was in her bedroom, looking around in her things—her very personal things—her wish to remain dead, violated.

Remus glanced over his shoulder before he whispered, "Althea—"

"No, Remus, no," she whispered, shaking her head—her panic rising. Trembling, she slowly started to back away from Remus, not taking her eyes off him. "No!" she repeated and darted for the stairs.

Remus grabbed her arm and Althea struggled to break free. "Please—"

"No!" she whimpered, struggling and falling to the ground in hope he would let go.

Remus fell as well, now holding both of her arms as she fought against him. With every push against him, Remus held her tighter. She was surprised of his strength despite his thin frame. _How could he do this to me_, she thought as she struggled and started to cry with frustration. _Why would he betray me_?

"Let me go!" she whispered, arching her back.

"He needs you!" Remus whispered heatedly into her ear.

"You've betrayed me!"

Remus held her close to him. Althea stopped struggling, her chest heaving great breaths. "He has been a wreck this entire week!" he whispered shortly into her ear.

Althea arched her back and attempted to turn her head away from him.

Remus held her head as he continued to whisper, "He's been preparing himself for you! Discovering that you're alive changed everything for him!"

"Moony, my wand it's—" Sirius began, walking into the corridor, but stopped once he saw Althea.

His face pale, Sirius's gaze did not waver from Althea. Slowly, his arms fell to his sides. Quiet, he did not move, but a small tremble started at his fingertips, slowly traveled up his arms, and consumed his entire body. Althea—not taking her eyes off Sirius—stopped struggling and Remus loosened his hold, allowing for her stand. He had changed—at least from the last time she saw him—his hair was clean and short, his clothes new, and he was still very thin, but not as thin as the night at Hogwarts. Sirius lifted his trembling, thin hand to his mouth—his eyes bright with tears. _Don't cry for me_, she thought—the knot in her stomach overwhelmingly painful. _Don't you dare cry for me_.

Sirius opened his mouth, and gasped for a deep breath. "Althea?" he managed to ask, taking a step forward.

"No," she replied, holding up her hands, "stand there."

Tears fell onto his cheeks and he awkwardly wiped them away. "There's a lot you need to know," he said, his voice wavering. Sirius took another step forward as he spoke, "Please—"

"No!" she replied firmly, backing away.

Sirius disregarded her request and continued forward. "I love you," he whispered, resting his hand against her cheek.

The words echoed in Althea's ears. Love? _It's not possible_, she thought, sickened that she enjoyed the way his fingers felt against her skin. _He says, 'I love you,' and I am supposed to forget everything? I spent twelve years of my life…I can't. I just can't! I don't care if he needs me! How many times did I need him? How many times was he not there when I needed him? Oh, but you had abandoned him when he needed you! You knew it was a lie, but you did nothing_! The panic and fear she felt transformed into anger and disgust at their mutual abandonment. Althea slapped his hand away from her.

"I said to stay away!" she said, looking into his eyes.

She saw the hurt—the brief look of rejection—upon his face, and a small part of her felt anxious and guilty. Sirius lifted his hand to her cheek, the sickening feeling of enjoying his touch returned.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted, slapping his hand away.

"Althea— "

Althea, her hand clenching into a fist at her side, backed away.

"Althea, please," he pleaded, attempting to touch her.

"No!" she shouted, punching him in the cheek.

Before Sirius could collect himself, Althea punched him again and watched as he staggered back—cupping the side of his face in his hand.

"Althea, no!" Remus admonished, rushing toward her.

Quickly unhooking her wand, she blasted Remus with a curse. With a shocked look, Remus flew backwards into the far guest room door, and landed with a loud _bang_. He slumped to the floor. Sirius, horrified, rushed forward, but Althea immediately pointed her wand at his chest.

"_Don't_ move," she warned, but Sirius took a step forward. Althea thrust her wand at his chest, the tip of her wand making contact with his breastbone. "You still don't listen to me," she remarked, her jaw tightening.

Sirius looked from her hand to her face. Althea knew he was thinking of a plan to disarm her.

"Before you do anything you'll regret, I have to explain," he said urgently, anxiously looking into her eyes.

"I already know," she sneered and out of the corner of her eye saw him reach for her wand. "_INFLIGO_!" she roared, the jet of pale blue light bursting from her wand.

She fell backward from the force of the curse onto the hallway floor. The curse hit Sirius squarely in the chest, and he sought to catch his breath as the curse exploded around him. Althea shuddered at what sounded like a cannon, which catapulted Sirius into the air—his lifeless grey eyes wide as his body bent into a graceful arc—and he somersaulted down the staircase to the entrance hall. He landed with a dull _thud_ onto his back. Althea scrambled to her feet and stood at the top of the staircase, waiting for him to move, but he did not.

"My God," she whispered, covering her mouth, "I've killed him."

Quickly she descended the staircase—her wand still pointed at the motionless Sirius. _He is alive_, she thought as she approached him, observing the slow and deliberate rise and fall of his chest.

Sirius groaned and brought his hands to his face, wincing as he touched the bruise forming on his cheek. "Bloody hell, Althea," he murmured and removed his hands from his face.

"Stand up," she demanded, motioning with her wand. "I said stand up!"

Sirius's bark-like laughter echoed throughout the entrance hall. "Why? I'll just fall when you kill me," he remarked darkly, looking into her eyes.

Althea tightened her grip on her wand.

"Moony forgave me," he muttered and groaned as he sat up.

Althea's eyes widened. "I am not Remus!" she screamed, sparks flying from the tip of her wand. "You have no idea what I went through! Do you know what happened to me on that night? _Do you_?"

Sirius remained silent as he shook his head.

"You left me to be tortured!" she said and slipped her fingers beneath her bikini bottom. She lowered it slightly for him to see the oval burn marks. "You left your daughter to be tortured!"

Tears started to stream down Sirius's cheeks.

"Look," she demanded, tears blinding her eyes, "look at what they did to me!"

Sirius cringed as he looked at her scars, increasing her rage—_she_ repulsed him. She repulsed the man she had loved—the man who vaguely looked like his handsome self—the man who should repulse her, but did not. Shaking with fury, Althea cast the Cruciatus Curse and Sirius quickly rolled out of the way, missing the curse—it leaving a small burn in the wood floor. Panting, he looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and sadness. Althea screamed and slashed the air with her wand. Sirius rolled out of they way once more.

"TAKE IT, YOU COWARD!" she roared, her wand arm trembling. "Prudence and I didn't have the opportunity to run away!"

"Do it," he insisted, breathing heavily. Sirius continued to stare at her, waiting for her to hit him with the curse. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Do it."

Althea looked into his eyes as she pointed her wand at his chest.

_Do it_, she thought, tightening her grip on her wand.

_Do it_.

Sirius remained still, waiting.

_Do it_.

"I can't," she murmured, losing her nerve. "I can't do it!"

Althea threw her wand across the entrance hall, and it hit the wall, creating a shower of sparks.

"Get out," she demanded, sinking to the floor—sharp pains radiating up her thighs as her knees hit the unforgiving floor. "Get out!" Althea covered her face with her hands as she sobbed.

Sirius crawled next to her and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" she sobbed, knocking his hand away.

"Let me explain—"

"What is there to explain?" she interrupted, turning to face him. "Twelve damn years, Sirius. You could have told me about Peter."

"You know, then?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Of course, I know," she replied quickly, looking into his eyes. "Remus told me."

"Then—"

"I was alone," she interrupted, "I was alone and pregnant." Sirius remained quiet as she continued, "What was I supposed to think? That you betrayed James and Lily willingly? That everything we had was a lie?"

"It wasn't a lie," he murmured, resting his hand atop hers.

Althea retracted her hand and held it in her lap. "I would think back to every moment, to every conversation, for something that would betray you," she explained and lowered her head. "I finally concluded that it was me. I remembered that you would say you'd do anything to protect me and to protect me no matter what," she continued, and raised her head—looking into his eyes. "I didn't want to believe it, but it was the only plausible answer."

"Oh, Althea," he whispered, lifting his hand to her face.

"Don't pity me," she replied, removing his hand from her face. "Why couldn't you have told me?" she asked pleadingly, new tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Sirius remained quiet.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked—her throat painfully constricting—roughly wiping her eyes. "Welcome you back? 'Oh, Sirius didn't betray James and Lily. It was all a horrible mistake.' It's been years, Sirius. Damn it, what am I supposed to do? I hate you."

Althea rested her head against her knees and pulled at her hair, growling with frustration and embarrassment.

"Aren't you going to say, 'You don't mean that?'" she asked, sniffing back tears.

Sirius rested his palm upon her back, causing her to sit upright. "I don't expect you to love me," he replied quietly, stroking her back.

Althea tightly shut her eyes and bit her lip, fighting the urge to rest her tear stained face against his chest—letting him hold her.

"I expect you to hate me," he explained, his fingertips tracing gentle circles into the small of her back. "I left you and our daughter," he continued and Althea opened her eyes to see more tears trickling down Sirius's face. "I saw her grave."

_He doesn't know she's alive_, she thought, a small surge of hope filling her abdomen. _Prudence is safe_.

Sirius wiped his eyes with his linen sleeve. "I'll understand if you hate me."

"I don't," she replied, barely audible.

Althea squeaked as she realized she misspoke. _I didn't misspeak_, she thought, taking in a sharp breath. _I don't hate him. I can't hate him_. Sirius inhaled a shaky, eager breath. Althea looked into his grey eyes, eyes once full of hope and love, now dimmed and haunted from Azkaban. _Don't_, she thought, taking a nervous breath, _don't tell him that you love him. It will only backfire. How will it end? What can he offer? It will only hurt you_. She continued to look into his eyes, agonizing over a response that would—no doubt—hurt him. _You and Remus are all he has now. He needs you and you need him. Isn't this what you've always wanted? Sirius innocent and in love with you? Whom else do you have_?

His gaunt face softened; the handsome features somewhat returning to his face (at least she imagined it so). His expression reminded her of the first time he had asked her that question on the Potters' sofa fourteen years ago—hopeful, full of love, ready to love her. She only had to say yes. _I won't make the same mistake_, she thought, guiltily looking at his hopeful expression. _I can't make it. I can't follow my heart as I did before. I know it will only end in heartache if I do_.

"I can't," she answered, her eyes filling with tears.

Sirius placed his hand upon her cheek. "What?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "You can't, what?"

Althea shook her head as her tears spilled onto his thin fingers. "I can't," she whispered, removing his hand from her cheek. "I can't."

**THE END**

* * *

**AN: **Thank you so much for reading this very long story. I am so sorry for all the edits, but I had never truly been happy with some of the things that happened and I tweaked it a bit. I can say, after all these years, I am finally happy with it.

Of course, the story has not ended here, it is picked up in _Shown Like the Sun_: the sun, the sand, the sea, and Sirius Black.


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